Victims
by Sunset
Summary: Nick Stokes has learned a lot of things as a CSI, the most obvious of which is that the truth is rarely pure and never simple. A new CSI joins the team. Mature themes, nothing graphic. Nickcentric Reviews are like water to a desert wanderer.
1. Chapter 1

**Victims**

**Chapter One**

"We're the second busiest lab in the U.S." Conrad Ecklie paused his speech and his steps, turning toward his companion, wanting to make sure his point was made. "Second only to the FBI." He grinned his practiced grin; the one that he thought radiated just the right mixture of pride and satisfaction, but in reality, was shark-like, all teeth and no pleasure. Eve Jordan, next to him in the hall, her head barely coming up to his shoulders, even in her heels, suppressed a shudder at the smile displayed for her. Then she suppressed a laugh.

She could tell he was waiting for her to say something, so she ran a smoothing hand over her blonde hair, tightly pulled back into a low ponytail and said, "That's quite impressive," then added, "Mr. Ecklie."

He liked that; she'd known he would. He began walking again, leading her down the hall to meet her new supervisor, Eve hoped that her co-workers weren't all as transparent as the Assistant Lab Director walking next to her. Ecklie warbled on, reciting facts and percentages, numbers she already knew, had learned during her training stint at the less active lab in Carson City. Ecklie was one step ahead of her, talking mostly to the air in front of him, once in a while tossing a word or two back over his shoulder. Probably to make sure she was still there, Eve thought.

They turned yet another corner, and she wondered if she'd ever be able to find her way around this place. Her eyes roamed. She peered into the labs they passed; a few of her new co-workers stopped what they were doing and watched she and Ecklie go by. Eve began to feel like a tourist at a zoo, and an exhibit at the same time.

Ecklie had stopped speaking, she suddenly realized, and she hoped that he wasn't waiting for her to answer. He'd stopped just a few inches from an open door, and Eve understood that he was only waiting for her to catch up before he interrupted the goings on inside the office.

"…to which the priest replies 'That's French for pickle'," she heard a smooth baritone voice finish what she hoped was a joke, and not some kind of rehash of testimony. The following laughter confirmed her first guess, and eased her anxiety somewhat.

Ecklie smiled at her, that same humorless grin and stepped into the open doorway, the laughter creasing almost immediately. Eve joined Ecklie in the opening, and quickly took in the sight before her. A woman with strawberry blonde hair sat behind the desk, her beautiful features a little strained. In the chair on the opposite side of the desk sat a lanky black man, long legs stretched out in front of him, and, Eve saw with a start, he had the prettiest green eyes she'd ever seen. Leaning up against the wall, just to her left, was another man, about six inches taller than Eve herself, with deep brown eyes. She felt herself relax.

"Catherine, your new hire, Eve Jordan, CSI One." Ecklie put a hand on her elbow before he continued. "Eve..." he gestured to the blonde behind the desk, "this is Supervisor Catherine Willows." Ecklie's hand moved just a bit, indicating the man in the chair, "Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes." As he made the last introduction, his hand crossed in front of her, toward the man against the wall, who lifted the coffee cup in his hand as a greeting. Eve smiled at them all in turn, lifting up a hand in hello. "Well," Ecklie said in the tone of a man who didn't know what to say next. "I'll leave you to it then," he turned and headed off down the hall.

Catherine's face immediately eased and she offered Eve a welcoming smile. Pointing to the empty chair next to Warrick, she said, "Have a seat. You've got us at a momentary lull, still waiting for the first call."

"Doesn't happen often," Warrick added as Eve sat down.

"Where'd you go to school?" Nick asked with a southern twang, coming up from behind her, joining the group by sitting on the edge of Catherine's desk just in front of Eve.

"Carson City Community College." She paused a moment before adding a little sheepishly, "Night classes."

Catherine caught the tone of her voice "Hey, nothin' wrong with night school, it's the only way I could have ever gotten here."

"You train with Carson City PD?"

"Yeah. I..." she stopped speaking; the shrill beeping of a pager filled the room, bouncing off the walls.

Catherine offered her an apologetic shrug before she pulled the offending noisemaker off her belt and read the display screen.

"Well, break's over. Eve, you get thrown into the lions den." She lifted the pager a little, "Missing person." Her gaze traveled up to Nick, who'd already slipped off the edge of the desk and was taking a last slug from his coffee cup.

He nodded as he swallowed. "Yeah, I've got this one." Touching Eve's shoulder he said, "Come on, I'll show you where you can put your stuff, then we'll head out."

"Come talk to me before you clock out tonight Eve," Catherine called as Eve followed Nick out the office door.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 02

"We all get along pretty good," Nick filled her in from behind the wheel as he drove them to the home of Jared Bentley, whose mother had reported him missing.

"How long has everyone worked together?"

"Ah, we all used to work together on graveyard. That is till Ecklie broke up the team, then put us back together last summer."

"Ecklie broke up a team?"

"Yeah, he and Grissom -that's the grave shift supervisor-they have this..." Nick paused searching for the politically correct word, "...They don't get along so well."

Eve's mouth formed an 'o', and she nodded a little, but didn't say anything.

"Then when Ecklie became the Assistant Lab Director, well..."

"Ecklie isn't as smart as Dr. Grissom, so he took revenge the moment he could, is that what you're trying not to say?"

Nick smiled; pleased the new girl was quick on the pick up. And smart to boot. "_Dr_. Grissom. Sounds a little strange," he answered, purposely changing the subject.

Eve shrugged. "I did some research before making my applications. The chance to work with him was one of the reasons I applied to LVPD."

"What were your other reasons?" Nick asked as he turned the wheel, making a sharp right into an older housing development.

"We're looking for Marilyn Circle, aren't we?" Eve consulted the slip of paper Nick had handed her when they'd gotten into the car.

"Yeah." He slowed the truck, leaning forward, his chest nearly against the wheel, as he stared out the windshield looking at the street signs they passed.

"There." She pointed to the next block as they approached it.

"Um hum." Nick turned the truck though another corner, and spied a black and white patrol car sitting about half way down the block. "And, I'm guessing, that must be where we're going."

He eased the SUV next to the curb and suppressed a laugh as Eve hopped out of the truck and was half way to the back of the vehicle before he'd even turned the engine off. Nick grinned, remembering his own first case, and almost envied her.

When he made it to the rear of the truck, he found her staring through the open hatch at the equipment. He raised his eyebrows. "Something wrong?"

She looked over at him, her eyes comically wide. "I just completely forgot everything."

--

Nick couldn't suppress his laugh this time. Reaching past her, he grabbed the neck strap of the camera and slipped it over her head. Taking the handle of the field kit, he pulled it out and handed it to her. "It'll come back to you, trust me."

"Hey Sam," Nick lifted his chin a bit, greeting the uniformed officer standing outside the front door. A woman in her late fifties or early sixties stood next to him, pulling her shirttails though her hands.

"Stokes." Officer Sam Ridgley glanced at Eve, giving her the once over quickly before he turned his attention back to Nick. "Lorena Bentley, this is Nick Stokes, from the Crime Lab."

"Oh. Crime Lab? I just want someone to find my son."

"Yes ma'am, we're gonna try and do that for you. Is this your home?"

"No. It's Jared's house. I live cross town, on Madison Avenue, you know, like in New York?"

"Yes ma'am," Nick answered politely, put his hands on his hips and gave Officer Ridgley a quick glance. "Ma'am, how old is your son?"

"Thirty-eight." Celica patted her hair, as if she was trying to make sure she didn't appear old enough to have an almost middle-aged son. "It's been two days since I talked to him, and he always calls every day."

"I did a quick walk through the house," Ridgeley answered Nick's protesting glare. "Two, three days worth of mail on the floor just inside the entrance, clothes look like they're all there, hair and tooth brushes both on the sink. The cat was about starved, and the water bowl was empty."

Nick glanced over his shoulder to Eve, who'd been listening intently. "If he took a weekend trip, he'd surely have taken care of the cat," she said.

Nick gave her an imperceptible shrug. "Ok, lets go check it out."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 03

The air conditioning was blowing when they crossed the threshold of the smallish house. Nick squatted for a moment, pulling a pen from his vest pocket and pushed through the litter of envelopes and store sale flyers laying in the entryway, glancing at them, then stepped gingerly over the pile. He smirked with approval when he heard the snap of gloves behind him, followed by several clicks of the camera shutter, then the sounds of Eve picking up the envelopes. As he walked further into the house, Nick began to breathe in a stench Sam had forgotten to mention, a combination of litter box and old garbage. Clearing his throat, he stopped when he reached the living room.

"Don'tcha just love cats?" Eve said from his elbow.

Nick smirked, but didn't answer. "Let's check the bedrooms first." He said before he headed down the hallway toward the back of the house.

Despite the fading sunlight, the back of the house was midnight dark. It reminded Nick of his own home, his bedroom windows shrouded in sunlight blocking drapes, so that he could sleep during the daylight hours. He paused in front of the first door they reached, pulling his flashlight out of his vest pocket and poked the light inside the room. Yep, same kind of curtains. He wondered idly if the missing Jared worked nights too. "I'll look in here, you take that room." He flashed the beam across the hall into what seemed to be another bedroom.

"Yeah." Eve had her own flashlight out and held it up, letting it illuminate the darkness. She took the two steps across the short hall and set the field kit down in the doorway. Her heart was beating hard, and she tried to control her breathing by taking two deep breaths. The idea of screwing up her first case in Vegas scared her more than the thought of what she might find in the dark room.

Taking a few steps into the bedroom, she flashed the beam from her flashlight quickly around to each of the walls, making sure there was no one lying in wait. Finding nothing, she concentrated on what she did find.

A king size bed was up against the far right wall, it's mattress hung off the box spring by a few inches. A red bed sheet covered the mattress, a light brown comforter wadded at the foot of the bed. Two uncased pillows lay in the middle of the bed, like they'd been tossed there and forgotten about. A television and DVD player sat on a simple shelving unit against the wall, three feet from the end of the bed. Several movies lay in disarray on the bottom shelf. A chair that looked like it belonged to a dining room set was lying on its back near the furthest wall; it's front left leg pointing straight down, toward the carpet, broken at it's connection to the seat.

Eve lifted her eyebrows as she took in the starkness, and ran the flashlight over the room again, thinking she must have missed something. The light twinkled back at her, reflecting off something metal. As she stepped closer, she realized it was a door handle, and from the size of the door, she figured it was a closet. Running her thumb across her fingertips, unconsciously making sure she still had the latex gloves on, she reached out and turned the knob.

A new stench assaulted her nostrils, and she crinkled her nose at the offensive smell. The door handle in her left hand, she turned the beam of the flashlight into the even darker closet. Right away the light hit something metal, several metal something's, the twinkling reminding her of a Christmas tree. Sweeping the light up and down, it took a few moments of staring before she realized what it was she was looking at, and the moment she did, she almost dropped her flashlight, her fingers tightening at just the right moment. She sucked in her breath, and was immediately sorry she did, the stench filled her mouth and throat.

"Uh, Nick? You wanna come take a look at what I found? Please?"

Seconds later, Nick was at her side, staring though the open closet door. They stared in silence for a moment before Nick broke the stillness by saying, "I think you've might have found our missing person."

--

Nick had her take the pictures while he went back outside to Officer Ridgley and the mother, to make the appropriate calls to the morgue and then to Catherine, letting her know their missing person had turned in to a 419. While outside, he'd stopped at the SUV and brought in a short ladder, knowing it'd be necessary to use to get pictures of the victims upper body and head.

Now, back inside the bedroom, he kneeled dusting fingerprint powder on the door. "Sexual asphyxia?" Eve asked lowering the camera away from her eyes, and now as she turned her head to him to ask her question, she placed a hand on the top step of the ladder, steadying herself.

Nick glanced up, his gaze landing on her back for a second before traveling to the body, or, more specifically, the eyes, they pulled like magnetic North, the eyes that protruded from the purple-blue face of the dead man, the color of strangulation, of a midnight summer sky.

The body was naked, expect for the thin studded leather straps that wrapped around his upper thighs, snaked around his back and crisscrossed his chest, then finally, fatally, circled his throat before winding up to the ceiling connecting to a thick steel hook, that would have been more at home in a meat packing plant than a suburban tract house. Red welts scattered across the exposed flesh, whip marks Nick assumed. The leather formed a complicated contraption, and Nick felt in his gut that sex was involved. No man would willingly wear something like this if not for the promise of sex.

"Looks like it. We'll have to wait for Doc Robbins report to know for sure," he answered as he brought his eyes back to the work in front of him, porously averting his gaze from the protruding tongue sticking out from between chapped lips, small dots of blood crusted in the cracks. "You wanna call it?"

"Well… " Eve studied the hanged man for a moment. "Foreplay in the bed, before they moved into the closet, for what would seem to be sexual asphyxia. Something goes wrong, chair breaks, vic dies, partner panics and takes off, slamming the closet door behind him."

"Him?" Nick asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Eve shrugged. "Would you let the woman strong enough to help lift you up there, go at you with a whip?" She indicated the red welts on the hanged man's legs.

Nick ducked his head, hiding the blush he could feel creeping across his checks. He shook his head. "No. Probably not."

The answer satisfied Eve and she went back to taking photos. They worked in silence for a few moments before the arrival of the medical examiner was announced by Lorena Bentley's shrill scream. Eve, startled by the sudden sound, almost lost her balance on the ladder, and again grabbed the top step to keep from falling.

"Damn Ridgley. I told him..." Nicks words trailed off, leaving Eve to only speculate at what Nick had asked the officer to do. He ran a finger over the tape he'd pressed down over a full fingerprint, smoothing the plastic and coaxing the pattern of back dust onto the sticky surface.

"Hello?" a voice called from what sounded like the front door, followed by a thunderous sneeze.

"Back here David." Nick stood from his kneeling position and went to the door of the bedroom, stepping into the hall.

Eve stepped down off the ladder and carried it to the corner of the room, making way for the coroner. He appeared a moment later, and followed Nick into the room. The senior CSI made the introductions; David shifted his black bag out of his right hand and shook Eve's hand, saying, "Welcome aboard."

Eve mumbled out a "Thanks" finding it a little odd to be pleasant with a naked dead man hanging just a few feet away.

Nick pointed his flashlight beam toward the closet. "He's in there Super Dave."

David switched into professional mode, sneezed twice in a row, and stepped over to the closet. After a moment, he backed up into the room and glanced around, spying the ladder. "Can I borrow that?" Eve handed it to him, and David disappeared back into the closet, motioning for one of his assistants standing by the metal gurney to follow.

"Hell of a thing, for your first case," Nick said.

After a moments thought, Eve answered. "Could have been worse."

Nick took a deep breath, and simply nodded in agreement.

David poked his head out around the closet door and found Nicks eyes. "You got what you need? Ok to cut him down?"

Nick looked to Eve, who nodded, telling him she'd gotten all the pictures. "Yeah, David, get him down."

"I'll go check the bathroom," Eve told Nick as she picked up her kit and left the room.

--

Nick was in the dining room when she'd finished in the bathroom. He was lifting a chair up, looking at the rug, then put it right back down. "Hey, I'm done in the bathroom."

"Find anything?"

"Oh yeah. Couple swabs from the toilet seat, and a used condom in the trash."

"Ok. We'll take it to trace, see if our vic has a contribution to the condom." He moved to another chair and repeated his lifting process.

"What're you doing?"

Lifting the third and final chair, Nick waggled a finger at her in a come here motion then he used it to point at the carpet. "See the indentations from the chair legs?"

"Um hum."

"There're only three chairs around the table, and the empty space, where the chair in the bedroom _should _be, there's no indents. The chair's been in the bedroom for a while."

* * *

a/n: Thank you for the reviews, wraiths-angel, Miss-Andromache, Shay and of course, my much-loved AlwaysWrite05, beta, cheerleader and friend. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 04

"Here's his..." Doc Robbins cleared his throat, "clothing." He handed Eve a brown paper bag folded over at the top, with red evidence tape sealing it closed. She was surprised at how heavily the bag weighed in her grip, considering how little of the victim's body the leather straps had covered.

Nick watched her weighing the bag with her hands before she set it down on the table, next to the metal bowls that held the victims organs, then turned his attention back to the doctor. "Asphyxia?"

"Um huh," Robbins confirmed. "And from the outfit and what I've heard about the crime scene, one could assume it was sexually related. Some people believe lack of oxygen heightens orgasm."

"Lividity in his feet and calves," Eve noted.

"The blood pooling in his lower extremities suggests he died as you found him." Doc answered, and glanced to Nick, who raised his eyebrows just a touch as a non-committal response.

"Time of death?" Nick asked.

"Sixteen to eighteen hours ago." Doc shrugged at Nicks' incredulous expression. "Best I can do for you." Turning just to his left, Doc picked up a jar filled with pasty colored liquid and handed it to Nick. "Stomach contents. Pasta with clam sauce, white wine."

"Ok," Nick took the jar and studied the contents. "We'll get this to trace, check for narcotics."

"Doc…?" Eve bent slightly over the dead man and gently touched the pliable skin on his neck. Two distinct straight lines of bruising circled the throat. The lower line, deeper in color, overlapped and cut off the slightly lighter colored purple band. "This overlapping, the strap of leather was moved, mid-strangulation?"

"Nice catch." Doc cocked his head a little, a smile growing. He and Nick exchanged impressed glances. "The leather was moved, or readjusted, before death. Maybe you're killers arms got tired, and he had to readjust."

"But he died hanging" Nick tilted his head as he spoke. "So the killer was behind him… or" he turned and took the two steps to reach the dead mans feet. "Or underneath him."

Silence pooled around the three of them, as each tried to picture how a man could hang to death with someone underneath him.

"Scrape his nails yet?" Eve asked glancing to Doc Robbins then down to the body of Jared Bentley, his chest cavity open and hollow.

"Not yet. Care to do the honors?" Doc held the instrument across his forearm, like a knight offering up his sword.

Eve smirked at the gesture and took the tool. Gingerly picking up Jared's right hand, she began to scrape under the nails.

Nick picked up the brown paper bag that held the studded leather straps. "I'll take these up, dust for prints." He looked at Eve, who was just finishing the pinky of the first hand. "Think you can find your way back to the lab?"

She looked up, and pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth before she shook her head and said, "No. I don't think so."

Nick grinned and set the bag down again to wait.

--

"Got a hit on the print I lifted from the door," Nick called out to Eve, who was dropping off the nail scrapings in the DNA lab as well as the swabs and used condom she'd taken from the bathroom of the victim's house.

Quickly crossing into the room, she peered over his shoulder as he sat at the computer terminal. "Yeah, who?"

"Christopher Elders, thirty-four. Prints are on file from his bust for shoplifting when he was twenty."

"That enough to bring him in?"

Nick shook his head. "Only proves he was in the house at some point."

"Well, maybe we'll get lucky and he'll have helped Jared into the straps."

"Did I hear someone say 'lucky'?" A new voice came from the doorway.

Eve turned toward the door and froze.

Nick looked up at her sudden stillness and grinned. "Gris, this is Eve Jordan, CSI One." He touched her elbow, breaking the spell. "Eve, Gil Grissom."

"Hello," Grissom offered a warm smile and firm handshake. Looking over her shoulder, he met Nick's eyes. "You get it yet?"

Nick shook his head, "Not yet, we've been working."

"Get what?" Eve asked, suddenly anxious, her mind conjecturing about some left over paper work or other formality.

In answer to her question, Grissom waggled a finger and said, "Come with me."

Eve tossed a worried glance over her shoulder only to be met with Nick's wide grin. He gently pushed her shoulder. "Go on. Wish I could tell ya it won't hurt."

--

"You mean like, for practice?" Eve asked, a slight tremble in her voice. Upon entering his office, Grissom had instructed her to sit down and roll up her sleeve, now she watched him unwrap a hypodermic needle.

"Blood evidence re-creation." Grissom tightened his eyes, studying Eve's grimace as he slid the needle in. Her blood flowed through the plastic tube, spilling out into the bag at the other end. "Everyone gives a pint, it's a CSI tradition," he added and watched her eyes as she followed the flow of blood ebbing out of her arm.

"Like fraternity hazing."

He gave her a slight smile. "Something like that."

"The best part is you get a cookie when it's over." Eve looked up to find a man and woman had positioned themselves in the doorway. It had been the woman who spoke, and she grinned wider now, showing a small gap between her two front teeth.

"Sara, Greg, this is Eve Jordan, our new Level One. Eve, Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders" Grissom made the introductions.

"Hey." Sara stepped in to the room and reached to shake Eve's hand, pulling back only after she realized her right arm was otherwise engaged in being siphoned. "Heard you pulled a dead body right off the bat."

"Ripe for kinky sex no less," Greg added, coming into the office, standing just behind Sara. Eve couldn't help staring at his hair; most of it was slicked down, as if he'd gelled it trying to look professional, then forgotten and run his hands through it, making random pieces stand up at attention.

Eve grimaced again as Grissom slid the needle out of her arm. "Only thing missing was the lace." Grissom placed a cotton ball on the place the needled had punctured her skin and folded her arm.

"Sounds more interesting than a man who played Sherlock," Greg said somewhat glumly.

Eve shook her head, wondering if she'd heard right, and didn't notice the plastic bandage being put on her arm. She was about to ask for details on what sounded like an interesting case, but Grissom interrupted her thoughts.

"All done," he said and patted her arm. "Thank you."

Sara lifted a hand and gave her a little wave, "See ya 'round."

Sliding off the stool, Eve rolled down her sleeve and was buttoning the cuff as she got to the doorway, when a thought occurred to her and she stopped, turning around "Where's my cookie?" She smiled, grateful her comment elicited a laugh from both Sara and Greg. And a genuine smile from Grissom.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"She's smart, and quick on the pick up." Nick glanced up from the leather strap laid out on the table in front of him, meeting Warrick's eyes for a moment before he set down the small feather duster like print brush and picked up a piece of tape.

"Not to mention cute," Warrick said, a knowing glint in his eyes and watched Nick maneuver the plastic around the edge of a metal stud, then rub the tape down on to the leather.

Nick made a quick face, his mouth pulling tight for just a moment; Warrick attributed it to the work and not the conversation. A moment later, Nick straightened up, smiling; his newfound print lifted in tact. He held the tape up to eye level, showing off his find, and looked at his partner though the clear plastic. "Don't go there, man."

Laughing, Warrick defended himself. "What? She _is_ cute."

Nick ignored the comment, for the moment, and walked past Warrick to the computer. He took the newly lifted print and set it down on the scanner. Sitting down in front of the monitor and pushing a button he watched while the machine started to work, a strip of neon green light slowly pushing its way across the glass. After a moment he turned back to Warrick. "Yeah. She is," he admitted with a deep breath.

"You gonna do anything about it?" Warrick asked.

Nick shook his head. "Nah, man. Company ink and all that. Besides, don't you think it would be awkward working with someone you're dating?"

Warrick suddenly looked at his feet. "Yeah, probably would."

Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw Eve in the hall, through the open door. He opened his mouth, ready to speak over whatever Warrick might say next, so she wouldn't overhear them talking about her; then watched, almost in fascination, but more in confusion, as Eve walked right past the open door, and further down the hall, staring into the lab windows on the other side of the hall, looking for all the world like a lost orphan.

A burst of muted chuckling escaped before Nick could put his fist up to his mouth to stifle the laugh. "Eve!" he called out around the laughter "In here." When she turned, he saw utter relief wash over her face at finding him, and the look was so sincere, he couldn't hold back the laughter anymore.

"Medieval labyrinths were less complicated than this place," she laughed at herself, and realized Warrick was in the room too. "Hi," she said, her laughter dying down.

"Hey. How's it going?"

The scanner beeped as if in answer to Warrick's question. Nick turned back toward the monitor and pushed buttons on the keyboard, then used the cursor to move the print from the leather into the search box and beginning the process of comparing the swirls to those on file in the database. He started with the Christopher Elders print from the door . As he worked, he caught Eve up on what he'd done while she was donating her pint.

"How'd that go? Gris gotten any better since he took mine? Damn near felt like my arm was gonna fall off," Warrick asked.

"Didn't hurt much." Eve checked the crook of her elbow and peeled the bandage off. "I met…" she paused for just a moment while she searched for their names, "Greg and Sara."

"Which reminds me, try and stay away from Hodges, he's…" the computer beeped several times, stopping Nick in mid sentence, leaving Eve to wonder what exactly Hodges was.

"Get a match?" Warrick leaned over Nicks shoulder, staring at the monitor. "Who's Christopher Elders?"

"He's the one who helped our vic into that contraption, and then shut the closet door on the dead man." Nick turned in his chair and met Eve's eyes. "Time for you to meet Captain Brass."

--

Three hours later Grissom stood behind Eve in the observation room, watching as Christopher Elders wiped the palms of his hands on his jeans for the second time in the last four minutes. Brass and Nick sat across the table, DNA results and fingerprint reports spread out on the table in front of them. The supervisor smirked as the new CSI yawned widely.

"So… the vic was strapped in to that leather sex contraption by this guy…" Grissom clarified his thoughts.

"Yeah. His prints on the leather straps, we also found partials on two of the buckles in the back, and his prints are on the closet door, and the chair," Eve finished for him "And," she went on, "we've got a match to his DNA against the pre-ejaculate we found in the condom from the bathroom."

Grissom moved his gaze from Eve's reflection in the glass, into the interrogation room. "Sounds like you've got the right guy."

--

"I know what you're thinking," Christopher Elders said; the smugness in his voice belied the terrified look in his eyes.

"Good, 'cause I hate explaining. Now, answer the question." Brass's voice was barely above a whisper.

"I don't know," Elders answered, the arrogance in his voice cracking.

"You don't know?" Nick asked, incredulous at the standard answer. Elders looked at his lap and slowly shook his head. Nick blew air out of his nostrils in a faux snort. "You don't know how your fingerprints got on to leather straps that were worn by a dead man hanging inside a closet?"

Elders didn't answer, didn't look up, didn't even shake his head.

He began to cry. From the observation room, Grissom and Eve watched Nick and Brass exchanged glances.

"It was an accident," Christopher mumbled though his tears.

"Tell us what happened, Brass said as he settled back into his chair.

"It was an accident…We'd done it before…" He wiped his palms against his thighs and put his hands flat on the tabletop. He stared at his fingers, not able to make eye contact with either man in front of him. "Foreplay on the bed, a movie to get things going…when he was ready, I'd help him into the outfit." He shrugged, "we called it the outfit, and he'd stand on the chair, I'd hook him in…he liked it." His shoulders started to shake as he began to cry again. "I don't know what happened…the chair broke…I tried to hold him…I couldn't hold him up and get the chair fixed… couldn't reach to unhook him…" Christopher put his head down on top of his hands.

"So you just left him there?" Nick asked, his voice raising two octaves.

Christopher looked up, locking eyes with the CSI, and ran the back of his hand against his nose. "What else was I supposed to do?"

Nick tilted his head, squinted at the suspect. After a moment's consideration, he stood quickly. "You'll want to wait for your lawyer, Mr. Elders. An officer will escort you to a holding cell." Confused, Brass watched, and then followed Nick out of the interrogation room.

Grissom and Eve, in unison, turned toward the door behind them just in time to see Nick open it and waggle a finger at Eve. "Come on, we're headed back to the crime scene."

--

"The dining room chairs?" Eve asked as they each knelt behind one chair, dusting finger print powder on to the backs.

"Well. Elder's is average height. If our vic was standing on a chair, then…"

"Then Elder's would also have to be standing on one to buckle the straps." Eve finished for him.

"And if there was a second chair within arms reach…"

"Elders could have easily slipped his own chair under Jared's feet."

Nick nodded, agreeing. "He left him to die."

--

"I brought you some tea." Catherine handed Eve the cup then made her way around the desk sitting down and leaning back in her comfortable chair. She watched Eve sip at the hot liquid, the cup cradled in both hands. "So, what'd you think?"

"I think it was a hell of a night." Eve blew into the cup, and took another sip.

Catherine raised an understanding half smile. "I gotta tell you, ya got lucky. This one was relatively cut and dried."

Eve rested the cup on her thigh and glanced up, meeting Catherine's eyes, then quickly away.

"What is it?" Catherine asked.

"He almost got away with it."

"But he didn't."

"Because Nick caught the inconsistency." Eve stared into the cup.

"Eve." Catherine sat up in the chair, leaned into the desk. "We back each other up. That's why we get to call ourselves a team." When Eve didn't respond, Catherine began again. "It's not because of your education; it's your lack of experience. And believe me," Eve looked up, meeting Catherine's eyes, "experience is the one thing I can guarantee you on this job."

-

TBC… 

_a/n: Thank you, for the reviews, _fridakoeln, wraiths-angel, mtee1958,

_and _Miss-Andromache: _it's coming, I swear, hang in there, you won't be disappointed, I promise_

_a very grateful thanks to_ AlwaysWrite05 _for betaing my mistakes, ya'll should check out her story: _Kiss Kiss YoBang _it's one of the best Cath/Warrick stories posted_

_and to all you silent readers, please review, I'm beggin' ya. Let a girl know your out there!_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 06

Overthe next three months Eve learned just how right Catherine was. She worked hard, challenging even Sara's overtime. Working with each CSI in turn, she learned something from each one of them. She even learned her way around the lab.

On her one hundredth and first case in Vegas, Grissom sent Eve out alone. Handing her the case slip, with a slight smirk on his face, he offered only one word of advice.

"Lemons."

She had no idea what he'd meant, and after she'd spent several hours with a half soupy body that had been found stuffed into a barrel in a storage unit, and as she traveled the lab hallways from the morgue to the labs, she noticed people taking a wide birth, or avoiding her altogether. Unconsciously, she reached up and smoothed her hair caught up in a tight bun at the nape of her neck; she caught a whiff of herself. And she then understood.

Dropping off the evidence she found in and around the barrel with both Wendy in the DNA lab, and Hodges in Trace to whom she held up a hand, silencing any comment he had regarding the aura of death she carried before he spoke them aloud, and headedstraight for the locker room showers.

The door swung silently shut behind her, and she noticed a plastic grocery bag hanging off her combination lock. She peeked inside. The bag was full of lemons.

--

Forty-five minutes later Eve rinsed the last bits of lemon pulp and juice off her skin and shut off the water. Wrapping the towel around herself, she realized that in her haste to get into the shower, she'd forgotten to bring in the set of clean clothes she kept in her locker. With a deep breath to steel herself, she pushed though the door that separated the showers from the lockers and padded across the tile floor, leaving damp footprints in her wake.

She'd just opened her locker and had grabbed a pair of folded jeans when she heard the main door swoosh open and the sound of footsteps that immediately stopped. Eve froze, her grip on the top of the towel tightening until her knuckles were white.

"Hey," Nick's voice came from the doorway "I ah… didn't expect anyone to be in here." From his point of view, all he could see was Eve's legs, to mid thigh, and her long hair that hung wet and tangled down her back. He cleared his throat and ran a hand over his hair. "Guess you didn't expect company either."

Eve peeked around the open locker door, Nick was wearing a jacket and tie, and she remembered being told he'd been in court. As she looked at him, he shrugged out of the jacket, and she suddenly felt very naked, despite the towel.

With the heat of a blush creeping into her cheeks, she managed to mumble though her embarrassment. "I forgot to bring in a change of clothes with me." Pulling her jeans and a clean tee shirt out of the locker she held them close to her chest.

"Bad decomp?" Nick asked as he sat down on the bench in front of his own locker, his back to Eve, giving her some semblance of privacy. Eve heard the slick sound of his silk tie as he slid it from around his neck.

She closed her locker door, the steel on steel thwack echoed around the room. "How'd you know?"

"You smell like Pledge" Nick teased, turning his head slightly to look at her out of the corner of his eye.

Eve sniffed her shoulder, then lifted her eyebrows and smiled a little. "Pledge is a lot better than Eau d'Decomp." She set off toward the shower room door to change into the clean clothes still clutched tightly in her hand, covering herself.

"See you later?" Nick asked, his head still turned part way over his shoulder.

Eve stopped, taken by surprise. "There's not much more of me _to_ see," she said before she could stop herself. Embarrassed, she hurried through the shower room door, closing it behind her, then leaned up against it, and lifted her gaze heavenward, giggling only after she heard Nicks own laughter.

--

Nick was still grinning to himself when he left the locker room a few minutes later; Warrick was coming down the hall "Hey man," Nick greeted.

"Hey," Warrick looked up from the file in his hands long enough to see the sheepish grin on Nick's face. "What've you been up to?" he asked, looking just past Nick to the shut locker room door, as if he'd be able to see through it to whatever had given his friend that guilty grin.

The Texan only shook his head in response; not wanting to let on he'd just seen their newest co-worker wet and half naked. It would somehow feel too much like bragging. Nick fell into step beside Warrick and they both turned in to the break room and poured a cup of coffee.

Warrick let himself sink into the sofa cushions, resting his elbow and cup of coffee on the arm of the couch. "So how was court?"

Nick shrugged as he stirred his coffee and turned around and leaned the small of his back against the counter. "Same ol' same ol'." They'd both been through the routine of testifying so often no other explanation was necessary.

Eve walked in at that moment, and Warrick smirked as Nick stood up a little straighter, squared his shoulders. "Hey," Warrick greeted Eve, the smirk on his lips seeping into his voice. When he took his eyes off his friend, and looked at his newest co-worker, he realized her hair was damp, and she'd changed clothes from when he saw her earlier. If her hair was still damp, then she had to have been in the shower very recently, and that meant… The smirk widened as he recalled the few short moments before, Nick walking out of the locker room almost giggling. Warrick's eyes shot over to Nick, who, from his wide-eyed stare, had been watching Warrick make the connection.

Nick held out the hand holding the coffee. "Don't," he warned, the humor not completely gone from his voice.

"Don't what?" Eve asked, she had no way of knowing Nick had left their encounter with a smile on his face, or that Warrick had put together the puzzle pieces to know that _something_ had happened.

"Yeah, Nick. Don't what?" Warrick teased, and quickly took a sip of coffee to muffle the laughter he couldn't contain. Over the last few months, teasing Nick about his growing attraction to Eve had become one of Warrick's favorite pastimes.

"Never mind," Nick told Eve as he moved out of her way, allowing her room to cross to the refrigerator. She'd pulled her hair back into the bun that had become a kind of trademark for her, and Nick felt a twang of disappointment in his stomach for the long river of hair he'd glimpsed flowing down her back.

She felt his eyes on her and glanced over, meeting his gaze then quickly turned shyly away. Warrick witnessed the exchange, and quickly raised his eyebrows, looks like Nick's attraction wasn't the only one mounting.

"Want some help on your decomp?" Nick asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Yeah, you know, I really would," she disappeared behind the open refrigerator door and popped back up with a can of soda in her hand. "No ID on the body, no fingerprints on the outside of the barrel…" Eve popped the can open and drank…And drank. And drank. Nick and Warrick watched in fascination as she tilted her head back, upended the can, and finished the entire thing. They glanced at each other, with open mouths. She tossed the newly empty can into the trash took a few steps to the table and sat down, turning the chair so she could face Nick and not turn her back completely on Warrick.

"Barrel body?" Warrick asked, the humor in his voice and demeanor vanishing as he sat forward resting his forearms on his knees.

"Um hmm" Eve answered, bringing two fingers up to her lips, suppressing a burp.

"Male or female?"

"First blush says female. Longish blonde hair and red fingernails."

"You get scrapings yet?" Nick asked.

Eve nodded. "Wendy's got them, as well as a few strands of the vics hair to pull her DNA from."

"Where was the barrel found?"

"A rental storage unit. There were some boxes that I brought in, and I _did_ find some glass fragments; possibly trace from the shoes of whoever put the barrel in there."

"Do we know who rented-" Nick started.

"The rental agreements are kept in the main office, especially those that are in default, as this one was, which is why they opened the unit. The manager said he'd have them faxed over."

Warrick's pager went off. "Breaks over," he said apologetically as he glanced at the screen. "You two have fun now." He tossed Nick a grinning-glance over his shoulder as he left the room.

Ignoring Warrick, Nick asked, "Where do you want to start?"

"Well, Doc was backed up with a freeway accident; said he'd page me when he got to my body," she heard herself and quickly back tracked, adding, "my vic. So, I was thinking the boxes would be first up."

Nick nodded his head and stood up. "Lead the way."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 07

"Kind of makes you wonder why the killer didn't burn this stuff." Eve pulled a handful of mail out of one box; her voice held the tone of thinking out loud, rather than asking an actual question.

"Most killers plan up to and during the crime. Hardly any of them think about after," Nick answered, sitting at the computer, studying the crime scene photos Eve had taken; familiarizing himself with the scene.

"All these are addressed to the same person, Elizabeth Buchanon, at the same address." Eve flipped though the envelopes. "The unopened ones are dated a month ago."

Nick stood and walked over to the layout table, opening the box on the opposite side from where Eve was. He cocked an eyebrow as he looked at the contents, and lifted out the item on top: a pink and purple painted box that was light in his hand. "I know what this is," he muttered as he lifted the lid. A halting, tinny tune began to play, and Nick found himself staring into his own reflection; a mirror was glued to the inside of the lid, and a tiny plastic ballerina spun in slow circles. "Couple of my sisters had these."

Eve looked up from the stack of mail she was still going though, and recognized the jewelry box in his hands. "A lot of little girls have one of those."

Nick set the jewelry box down and dug back into the cardboard box from the storage unit. He pulled out two stuffed animals; a tattered light gray elephant that had seen better days, and a white teddy bear holding a red heart, that looked almost new. He laid them down on the table next to the jewelry box.

Eve decided she'd opened the wrong box; hers being full of loose papers and a handful of books, and she made her way around the table, next to Nick. His box was much more interesting. She picked up the stuffed elephant; it was well loved for Elizabeth, assuming it was Elizabeth, to have kept it for so long. Eve was lost in thought, imagining the little girl who had clung to the elephant, spent countless nights sleeping with him clutched in her arms. "Hello," Nick's voice brought her out of her reverie, and she focused back in the present. She leaned over, peering inside the cardboard box, oblivious to how close she was to him, and watched as his hands clasped and pulled out an oddly shaped soft plastic penguin.

"What do you suppose that is?" Eve asked, at the same time Nick turned the penguin upside down and found a switch. The penguin began to vibrate in his hands, and they both realized at the same time what it was shaped like. "Oh" she muttered, the heat of a blush already burning her cheeks. She caught his gaze—his smirking gaze—and looked away, but not before Nick saw her quickly lick her lips and grin slightly

"This seems to be all personal stuff," he muttered, turning the vibrating penguin off. Eve walked back around the table, putting distance between him and herself .The heat of her embarrassment still stained her cheeks, and she forced herself to concentrate on the tedious envelopes at hand.

A muted buzzing sound suddenly filled the room, and she looked up, thinking that Nick had turned the penguin back on before she realized her hip was vibrating. She grabbed her pager, reading the screen. "Doc's ready on our vic. Coming?"

"Yeah," Nick said as he snapped off the latex gloves and tossed them into the trash.

--

"Right there," Doc said using a pen as a pointer, indicating the wound track he'd found in the spongy flesh of the victims chest. "Serrated on one edge, and thin. I'd say probably an ordinary steak knife. Collapsed her left lung."

"So she is defiantly female?" Nick asked, glancing toward the hips of the body on the table.

"No question."

"Nick?" Eve asked, holding up the dead woman's hand, the fingers were in an advanced state of decomp. "You think there's any chance of getting usable prints?"

Nick lifted the other hand, examining what was left of the prints. He shook his head slowly, "No. Probably not." He gently turned the hand over "Are the nails on that side ragged?"

"Yeah," Eve said, running her own gloved fingertip against the jagged edges of the red painted nails. "If she kept the polish up, then…" she stopped, a thought suddenly occurring to her, and looked up to the doctor. "Is there anything else you can tell us?"

Doc shrugged. "It's hard to tell, given the circumstance you found her in, but I'd say she's been dead about a month."

"Fits in with the unopened mail you found," Nick said, glancing at Eve across the body.

"Um hmm." Eve was still holding the dead woman's hand, and she gently laid it back down on the table. "I need to go have a second look at that barrel."

--

It was brown, stained with rust and dirt, and it smelled almost as bad as anything Nick had ever come across, even with the barrier of the heavy plastic it was wrapped in. The techs who'd brought it in had placed it in the corner of the garage, near the outside door in, Nick supposed, an attempt to keep the smell to a minimum. Eve, two steps ahead of him, grasped the open edge of the barrel, swinging it out just a bit further into the garage and begun to slice through the plastic wrapping. "Thought you said you didn't find any prints?" Nick asked as he began to bundle the discarded plastic.

"I didn't find any on the outside. Her body was still in the barrel when I last saw her. David had just arrived." Eve handed him the last of the plastic and explained further "Her broken nails make me think that she was still alive when she was put in here." She plucked a flashlight out of her pocket and pointed the beam into the depths of the barrel. "Look, here," she glanced over her shoulder, and Nick was right there next to her, bent over, leaning in.

"Scratch marks," he said, and swallowed away a sudden lump in his throat.

"She was still alive and conscience when the killer put her in here."

Nick stood quickly, and turned his back on the barrel, walking away from it. He began to pace, feeling like he couldn't breathe, at the same time knowing he was breathing to hard. His chest hurt, all his organs felt like they were constricting, and his heart started to pound hard against his ribs.

Eve watched him for a moment confused; then realization dawned on her. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I wasn't thinking. I should have known better than to bring you in here."

Nick stopped in his tracks, and turned sharply to her, one hand pressed to his chest, as if he were trying to manually force his heartbeat to calm down. "You've heard?" He heard his own voice, more accusing than he'd intended. His anger was misdirected at Eve; but he wanted to know who in the lab had been talking about him.

"It was in the papers. Hell, it was on CNN." She set the flashlight down and walked over to where he stood, putting her hand over his. "No one here has mentioned it. No one's talking about you," she said softly.

"How'd you know I worry about people talking about my … kidnapping?" Weather it was her voice, her hand on his, or just her proximity, he didn't know, but his heart was easing back into a normal beat.

Something flickered quickly behind her eyes, then she blinked and it was gone. She shrugged, "I guess I just assumed…" she let the words hang in the air.

Nick turned the hand on his chest, and he grasped hers. "Thanks" he said, giving it a quick squeeze, but not letting go.

"Anytime," she said gently. Their eyes met and Nick felt a connection, something that told him she understood. As if it had a mind of it's own, his thumb stroked her hand. The action made Eve realize her hand was still in his, and she slipped it quickly away.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

"Ah…" Eve racked her brain for something to say. "You wanna go back to the boxes? I'll see if there are prints inside the barrel. Maybe we'll find out if she really is Elizabeth Buchanon." She bent and picked up the flashlight from the floor.

Nick nodded, mentally brushing off the disappointment he felt. "Yeah, ok. Meet you back in the layout room."

* * *

Sorry for the delay everybody, blame it on my beta reader Thank you for the reviews, they really do mean a lot. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 08**

Nick rested his head in his hands, elbows on the layout table. _Can't go there man, you just can't. Not with a co-worker_. He lifted his head, with the intention of getting back to work, but Warrick stood in the doorway, watching him.

"You ok man?" Warrick asked, the concern in his voice drawing out across his knitted brow.

"Yeah," Nick faked a smile. "Fine."

"Nope," Warrick walked into the room and shut the door behind him. He leaned up against the table, propping his bodyweight on one arm. "Can't lie to me. Spill it."

Nick turned his attention back to the stack of mail spread out in front of him. "Ok then" Warrick continued, "If you wanna make me guess, I'll guess." He leaned down, folding both arms on the table. "Eve?"

Nick rolled his eyes then shifted his gaze to his friend. "Am I that transparent?"

Warrick chuckled and shook his head. "Only to me. And Catherine. And Sara. Probably Greg too. Maybe Hodges-"

"Ok I give," Nick threw his hands up. "I don't know what to do about it, man."

"What's to do?" Warrick asked. "You take her out, let nature take its course."

Nick shook his head. "Not a co-worker - that could get messy."

"Nicky," Warrick said suddenly serious "If there's one thing you should have learned from your kidnapping is that life is short. Really short. If you like her, damn the consequences and get on with it."

"You think she might like me too?" Nick asked sheepishly.

Warrick made a face. "I don't know, but I can ask her after math class," he chuckled. "Come on man, we're not in seventh grade

Nick licked his lips, and was immediately grateful for the break in conversation, since Eve opened the door at that exact moment. "I got a match." She said cheerily, holding up a piece of paper. "Elizabeth's in the system, she was a file clerk at the county court house, printed for the job. Matches the prints I found inside the barrel."

"I… ah-" Warrick shot Nick a urging glance, "I'll let you two _get on with it_ then."

Eve was excited with her break in the case; she barely seemed to notice Warrick's presence, departure, or the glance the two men shared that fell in between. Practically skipping up to the table, she laid out all her printed findings on the table in front of Nick, explaining as she went.

"Her boss, Darryl Hugley, reported her missing three weeks ago. In his statement, Darryl told the detective he'd received an email from Elizabeth, in which she quit her job, _but _she'd already given notice, she'd been accepted into med school, _and_ was very dedicated to a project she was finishing at the office before she left. He said there was no way she'd quit by email. Darryl tried to called her at home, several times" she took a breath "Elizabeth's boyfriend, Stanley Kimball, an attorney no less, would only tell him that she'd left town. Darryl never believed him."

"Did the cops talk to Stanley?" Nick asked, reading from the reports.

"Yes, they did. But the detective said while the 'out of town' story seemed to be a lie, there was no evidence of foul play. And the boyfriend seemed to be genuinely heartbroken she'd left him."

Nick cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe he was genuinely heartbroken over killing her."

"I hate lawyers." Eve said.

--

Eve looked at the clock on the wall, it was three in the morning, and their suspect had been pacing the interrogation room like a caged tiger for a half hour. Nick was behind her, half leaning, half sitting on the edge of the table, arms crossed over his chest. "Why don't you go ahead with out me?"

Eve turned to face him, "Do the interrogation alone?"

He shook his head, "No, no, not alone, Brass'll be in there with you."

She only stared at him dumbfounded. He suppressed a chuckle at her expression. "Look," he held out his hands "you've got enough cases under your belt, you know how to do this. Besides…he likes blondes."

She tilted her head, made a face at him that said _you've got to be kidding me_.

Nick shrugged and offered her an encouraging wink. Eve felt like sticking her tongue out at him.

Brass opened the door to the observation room "You ready?"

"Eve's gonna take this one."

Brass cocked an unsurprised eyebrow, "Yeah?" His tone was noncommittal.

"Yeah," Eve said, with more conviction than she felt. Reaching up, she took out the elastic band that held the bun in her hair, and shook out her tresses, letting them fall as she bent and shook out the tangles. Standing up, she cocked an eyebrow at Nick. "Better?"

"Um hmm," was all Nick could muster. Eve smiled a pursed lip smile at him.

"Let's go," Brass said, keeping his voice as professional as possible. The interaction between the two CSI's was not lost on him, and he could sympathize with Nick's controlled response.

-

Stanley Kimball's stomach lapped over his belt, and it jiggled with his movements as he paced. His back was to the door when Brass opened it, stepped in and held it open for Eve. Kimball stopped pacing and turned around just in time to see Eve raking her fingers though her hair. He rubbed his stomach as he ran his eyes over her, making her want another lemon shower. Eve shot the mirror -Nick- an uncomfortable glance as she slid into the seat. Brass moved to the corner of the room.

"Hi," Stanley said, running his eyes up and down Eve, continuing to rub his stomach. Her eyes flicked with the movement, and he misinterpreted her glance. "Gotta build a shed when you've got a tool as precious as mine."

In the corner, Brass snorted.

"Mr. Kimball, I'm Eve Jordan, CSI has found-"

"Call me Stan," he interrupted her, and puffed out his chest.

"We're here to talk about Elizabeth Buchanon-"

"She left me. Went out of state." Stan said, sounding very practiced.

"CSI found-"

"You a clerk or something?"

Eve gave up. If Stan wanted to play it this way, then fine, she'd play too. She leaned into the table and forced a smile. "I'm something alright," she purred and flicked her blonde hair off her shoulder. He grinned at her, with straight white teeth, it sent a shiver down her spine. "Tell me about Elizabeth," she prompted.

He shrugged. "What's to tell?"

"You could start by telling me how she ended up in a barrel, in a storage unit, rented three days before she went _missing_." She changed her posture; straightening her shoulders; play kitten gone, replaced by a lioness. Her voice grew harder as she stated each fact; and Stanley's face grew paler.

"You found her?" Stanley asked before he could stop himself, then added, "I want a lawyer," before he finally shut his mouth.

--

"He's not talking, to us anyway." Nick said as he settled back into the chair in Grissom's office.

Eve, in the other chair, looked though the reports she held in her lap. "Her boss said she was accepted to med school in California, and had confided in him about Kimball's verbal abuse, that was on the verge of becoming physical."

"We think she was leaving him," Nick added.

"Packed up a few of her personal things," she shot Nick a glance, remembering the penguin. "Put them in storage."

"Before she went back to his house to tell him." Nick continued.

"And that's when he killed her," Eve finished.

Grissom observed the verbal tag team report in front of him with a slight smirk on his face. "Ok then," he said after a moment. "Tell the DA about it tomorrow." He glanced at the clock "Nick, you've already had a full day, with your court appearance, the two of you, go ahead and go home."

Eve looked at her watch, "It's only…"

"Come on" Nick was up out of his chair, touching her elbow "When the boss says go, you go while the gettin' is good."

--

On the way to the parking lot, Eve detoured into the locker room, and came back out with her purse and the grocery bag that had held the lemons and was now stuffed with her decomp smelling clothes. "I think I'm gonna have to throw these out." Eve said and held up the bag at arms length. She wasn't at all surprised to see he'd waited for her.

"You know," Nick began, as he held the door open for her, "you should wear your hair down more often."

Eve grabbed at the ends that hung over one shoulder, realizing she'd forgotten to put it back up after the interrogation. She tucked a few strands behind her ear. "Yeah?"

"Um hmm," Nick said as the door swung silently shut behind them.

It was just past five am, and clouds were hanging low in the desert sky. Eve craned her neck to look at them as they walked to the dumpster on the side of the building. "I never really liked that shirt anyway," she said a little grudgingly as she tossed the bag in.

Nick's hands were shoved deep into his jeans pockets as they made their way to their cars. He sill wasn't sure pursuing anything with Eve was a good idea, but Warrick's comment about life being very short had hit home. "Eve," he said stopping near her bumper. She was rummaging in her purse for her keys, but lifted her gaze at the timbre in his voice. "You wanna go get a drink?"

She pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth. "That's probably not a good idea."

"Oh…yeah, of course" Nick looked at his feet, kicked a couple of pebbles, feeling very much like an idiot.

"It's not…" Eve stepped closer to him, her hand came up, hovering between them, as if she wanted to touch him, but dared not. "It's not that I don't like you, I mean I do," it was her turn to look at the ground. She licked her lips and her hand fell to her side as she continued quietly "I just have something-"

"Hey. It's ok. Another time." Nick turned and walked away, the long walk to his own truck climbing in he shut the door quickly, and adjusted the rear view mirror, watching Eve as she looked helplessly toward the sky, then reluctantly -she sure seemed reluctant to Nick- climbed into her own car and started the engine, driving off in to the night.

* * *

TBC… 

a/n: Many thanks to Miss-Andromache for the excellent beta job and suggestions. And, as always, thanks to AlwaysWrite05 for all her encouragement, no matter the subject.

Thank you yourdarkestsecret13861 (love that name) LadyArtemis2, wraiths-angel, mtee1958 and Lt. Commander Richie for the reviews, all are appreciated.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 09**

"Yeah, yeah, quit your knocking, I'm comin'," Nick hollered out, still half asleep. He tugged his robe closed and looked at the clock on his living room wall as he passed it on his way to the front door. Eight in the morning. Who the hell would be banging on his door at eight am? Lightening cracked sounding very close to his outside window. Eight in the morning and in the rain no less. He opened the door with the flourish of a man who'd been woken out of a fitful sleep. He'd become used to dreams of Warrick's face, hovering over the open grave, retreating back into the darkness, leaving him in the cold earth to die alone, but this time Warrick's face morphed into Eve's, and it was her who pulled away from him. Nick was ready to bark at whoever it was on his doorstep, but when he saw who it was, the angry words died in his throat.

Eve stood in front of him, soaked from the rain. She held out her hands in what might have been the beginnings of a shrug, trying to explain her presence. "My car just kind of drove over here," was all she said.

Nick stood mute, taking in the sight of her. She was drenched, her hair hung in tangled masses, her make up smeared, and she looked helpless and lost.

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He moved, before she had the chance to change her mind and walk away from him again, letting go of the door, he stepped in closer to her, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. Kissed her like a man who knew exactly how short life was.

Stunned by his swiftness, she took a moment to respond, but she returned the kiss fervently. Lightening stuck again, and she gasped, pulling her mouth away from his. Nick took the moment, regained his senses and pulled her inside, closing the door on the rain

Her fingers were shaking as she struggled to unbutton her blouse, Nick took her hands in his, holding them, warming them, and he looked at her tenderly "It's ok," he whispered, and she sighed deeply. He let go of her hands, his fingers finding the buttons of her blouse, then slipping it off her shoulders to the floor, where it landed with a wet thump at their feet.

He slipped out of his robe, his fingers beating hers to the button and zipper on her jeans and a moment later, they too lay in a crumpled mess next to her blouse.

She seemed nervous, and Nick murmured calming words into her ear as he trailed soft kisses down her neck and shoulders. Her arms encircled him, her fingers plunging into his hair. He picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, as he carried her to his bed.

When he entered her, she let out a sob; he stopped moving and looked at her. She was biting her bottom lip; and a single tear ran down her cheek.

"No," she whispered, "Don't stop," she kissed him, shifted her hips, tightened her muscles pulling him deeper, and Nick lost himself to the feel of her.

Later, she'd rolled away from him on to her side. Nick held her, caressing her, moving her hair from her shoulder. His fingers played across her skin and down her arm. She lifted it, letting his hand snake in and up her stomach, finding a white slash of scar tissue across her left bottom rib. He ran a finger across the two inches of sunken skin. "How'd you get this scar?" he asked, kissed her shoulder.

"Fell off my bike when I was ten." She rolled over, facing him, ran a finger down his cheek.

"Are you ok?" he asked, searching her eyes.

"More than ok," she said and nestled her head into the crook between his head and his shoulder. "It's just been awhile since anyone treated me so sweetly," she kissed his neck.

His arm encircled her shoulders, his fingers brushed up and down the skin of her back. He felt her sigh with her whole body, her muscles giving way even more as she fell asleep in his arms.

* * *

Many, many thanks to MissAndromache for the **wonderful** beta job.

And thank you, yourdarkestsecret13861, Cuddy Cabin,Lt. Commander Richieand wraiths-angelfor taking the time to review. You have no idea how much your kind words mean to me.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Nick woke suddenly, startled and unsure why he was awake. He glanced at the clock, it was only four in the afternoon, they had another hour before the alarm went off, _what the hell was that noise?_

And then his head cleared and it dawned on him. His cell phone. He grabbed at it, reaching over Eve as she stirred with the noise and movement. "Stokes," his voice was horse and scratchy through his dry throat.

"Nicky, it's Catherine. We need you, Gris and I are in Henderson, Swing's tapped out, Sara and Warrick are still at the courthouse."

"Ok Cath, hang on a sec," he reached for the pad and pen on his nightstand and flopped the pad down on the mattress next to Eve's stomach, his arm resting on her hip as he wrote down the Henderson address Catherine gave him.

"Eve's not answering her phone, I just might put a GPS track on her._" _Catherine said into his ear, sounding only half kidding.

Nick glanced down and met Eve's now fully awake eyes. "Try her again Cath, she'll probably answer. See ya in about an hour," he clicked the phone shut. "Where's your cell?" He said to Eve, but she was already moving, wiggling out from under his arm.

"My jeans," she said as she scooped them up off the floor and dug into the back pocket. As soon as the phone was free of its material confines the muted ringing sound became instantly louder. Eve flipped the phone open "Hey Cath."

Nick swung his feet to the floor, propped his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands as he listened to Eve talk to Catherine. What the hell had happened? Well, he knew exactly _what _had happened, he just didn't know why. Why she'd changed her mind. Had he pushed her? She'd seemed hesitant on his doorstep, her hands had been shaking, and what the hell was the crying? _It's just been awhile since anyone treated me so sweetly _she'd said to him. Maybe that was the truth. Hell, it'd been awhile for him too, and wasn't he the supposed ladies man who'd taken three long months and a big push from Warrick to work up the courage to ask her for a lousy drink? If he was honest with himself, he'd been a bit nervous too.

"Ok, see you in a bit," he heard Eve click the phone shut, saw her bare feet appear in front of him. "Hey," she said gently, and put a lightly placed hand on the top of his head. "Good morning."

He lifted his head to look at her, her hand drifted down, brushing his cheek. "Morning," and when she smiled at him, he knew it was all going be all right.

--

The first thing Catherine noticed, as she stood on the porch of the crime scene house, wasn't that Nick and Eve arrived at the scene within moments of each other, but was Eve's hair. Flowing free, caught up in the wind as the younger woman hoped out from behind the wheel of the department issued SUV and walked to the back of the tuck, and for a moment, Catherine didn't know who she was.

Catherine watched as Eve crossed the street headed for the house, Nick joined her at the end of the drive way, giving Eve an energetic 'Hello' as he held the barrier of yellow tape up, letting her duck under.

Being an experienced CSI, Catherine couldn't help but notice Eve was wearing a plain white tee shirt that was two sizes to big. And, being an experienced woman, Catherine recognized the signs; haphazard hair, man's plain white tee-shirt, unanswered phone, all only added up to one thing; Eve had not been at home or alone last night.

Eve raked though her rowdy strands, finger combing them into a low ponytail, working the elastic band as she listened to Catherine's instructions. "Victim is Howard Whitmere, killed in his bedroom. Eve, you head back that way, Grissom's already there. Nicky, I need you to check out the broom closet and the kitchen."

Nick's brow creased with confusion. Catherine answered his question before he asked it. "Take a look at the body, you'll understand why the broom closet."

Both CSI's nodded when she finished her directions and Catherine stepped aside just a bit, allowing them room to pass by her and into the house. Her new position gave her a clear view of Nick's hand as it settled on the small of Eve's back as they crossed the threshold into the crime scene. _Hmmm_ Catherine thought to herself, and cocked an eyebrow.

--

Nick stopped just inside the front door, taking in the living room. The room could have been any one of a number of 'before' pictures from Trading Spaces. It was a causal setting; two dusty gray sofas faced each other with a large square coffee table in between, as if waiting for a group of friends to come over for a game of Monopoly. A large cabinet with a TV inside stood at the opposite end of the room, like a solider standing guard over the furniture. A tall potted plant with palm like leaves, that Nick was sure had to be silk, stood in a corner.

Eve watched him take it all in from the mouth of the hallway. "Kitchen's that way," she used her chin to point across the room toward an alcove and a pass through window.

"Gonna take a look at the vic first." Nick said as he walked up to her, checked behind him toward the door, and brushed closely past her, pausing just a second too long next to her.

"Oh," she lifted her head just a little, in a half nod, "yeah, that's right," she said as she followed him down the hall.

--

Nick could hear Grissom moving around in the bedroom, and when he reached the threshold, he found Grissom descending down to all fours, Maglite in his hand ready to shine underneath the bed. "Hey Gris" he greeted his boss. "Whatcha got?" The words died quietly in his throat, coming out as a horse whisper as Nick's brain processed what he was seeing.

Catherine hadn't mentioned this.

Howard Whitmere was spread eagled, face down on his mattress, wrists and ankles tied to the posts at each corner of the bed, the comforter was lay out neatly under him, as he'd made the bed that morning. Duct tape covered his mouth, and Nick could see the edges of a handkerchief protruding out from the tape. Blood trickled down the back of the victim's thighs, pooling on the mattress. A broom lay next to the body; blood streaked its handle about six inches.

Instinctively, Nick turned his head toward Eve. She was standing just behind him and off to the side, staring at the body with glazed over, wide eyes. "Hey," he prompted, barely whispering, Eve flinched noticeably, then blinked, glancing at Nick. He watched as the veil of professional detachment dropped across her face. She swallowed and nodded, telling him she'd be all right.

Grissom pulled himself out from his position halfway under the bed and sat back on his haunches. He looked at Nick for a moment like he was trying to remember who he was. "Nothing," he said flatly, answering the question Nick felt like he asked hours ago.

"Nothing?"

"No finger prints, no fibers, just a whole lot of nothing. Nick, go dust the broom closet; Eve," he flashed the beam from the Maglite across the bed. "Help me process in here." Grissom's voice took on a tone of determination Nick hadn't heard in a long time.

"All right, boss," Nick turned, flashing another glance at Eve before he headed back down the hall.

Eve approached the bed cautiously, almost reverently. Setting her kit down on the floor near the headboard, she crouched next to it. As Grissom searched the carpet on his hands and knees, Eve scrapped under his nails, fingers hanging limply from their bindings. "Neckties," she remarked about the straps, not really expecting Grissom to answer.

She was running the ALS over the comforter and body when David entered the room, two techs with a gurney hung back in the hallway, waiting for the go-ahead. They glanced at the body and quickly down to their feet. Grissom had stood up at the sound of the gurney, taking the moment to remove the broom and wrap it in plastic before whatever evidence might be on it could be compromised. The younger of the techs watched the movement, seeing the broom for the first time and swallowed hard, putting the back of his hand against his lips.

"Eve, Grissom, " David addressed the two CSI's and then let his gaze drift to the bed, allowing himself a deep sigh.

"Eve," Grissom got her attention. "Cut the ties on your side, I'll get the other side" He pulled scissors out of his kit and moved to the top of the bed on the side nearest the wall, slicing through the fabric that bound the victim's right hand. Slipping the yellow and blue stripped tie into a plastic evidence bag, he moved to end of the bed, repeating the process on the solid Kelly green tie on the right ankle. He watched as Eve, a step behind him cut though the red, white and blue silk tie on Howard's left ankle and dropped it into a fourth evidence bag. 

As they worked, David had opened his own kit, and took out the thermometer. With a nod from Grissom, he jabbed the sharp end into the body, the flesh giving way with a reluctant squish and waited a moment for the digital read out to appear. "Eighty-one," he told Grissom. He's been dead eleven to thirteen hours."

Grissom nodded, as if he'd expected nothing else. "OK David, get him to the morgue." David waved in the techs with the gurney, as they worked, Grissom walked around them to where Eve stood, out of their way.

"What'd you find?"

She shook her head. "Not much really. Some scrapings from under the nails." Her attention fell back to the men from the coroner's office who were zipping the body into the black plastic bag.

"Eve?"

She blinked and turned her head, meeting her supervisor's gaze directly. "Sorry."

He cocked an ambiguous eyebrow at her. David snapped his medical kit closed and moved to follow the gurney down the hall. "David, ask Robbins to page me before he starts the autopsy."

With a nod, David agreed, "Will do."

Grissom turned his attention back to Eve. "Process the bed clothes, layer by layer, then bag each one. The killer had to have left _something _of themselves behind." She squared her shoulders and got to work.

--

Nick dusted the broom closet door and handle finding a few clear sets, but mostly partials and a lot of smudges. He lifted the clearest ones, slipping the cards into his kit as he went, to take back to the lab.

A door on the opposite side of the kitchen led outside and he dusted the inside knob. When he found nothing he opened the door on to the modest back yard. He could tell the vic didn't spend much time out here, the rock and stone landscaping only added to the sterile feel of the yard. No barbeque to speak of friends and family and there wasn't even a hose attached to the spigot to water the one forgotten potted plant that rested on the edge of the concrete patio. Nick checked the ground for footprints, _hopeless_, he thought, with the jagged edges of the rock garden in place of grass and soil, but still he processed. He checked each window in the back of the house, all were shut tight, latched from the inside, and the black finger print powder yielded nothing. He worked his way around the house, and when he arrived at the window to the master bedroom, the blinds drawn. He could hear Grissom voice coming from inside saying Eve's name to get her attention. Her losing her focus wasn't like her and with pangs of guilt, Nick wondered if last night had been such a good idea after all. Or maybe, it was the sight of the dead man, violently raped in his own home by a broom handle had her distracted. After all, if he was honest with himself, he had been glad to catch the broom closet as his assignment and to get out of that bedroom. Nick heard Grissom give Eve instructions about the bedclothes and saw her shadow move behind the curtains. The outline of her body made all the guilt disappear. Nicks jaw twitched, as his mind fluttered back to that moment on his doorstep. His grip loosened on the brush even as it fluttered against the glass, and he relived the feel of her back against his palm. Eve's shadow moved behind the curtains and Nick blinked away the memory, and got back to work. Dusting and checking each window until he arrived back at the flat slab of concrete of the patio.

Grissom was in the kitchen when Nick walked back inside the house using the ALS on the kitchen sink. Streaks of ghostly bright blue lit up the stainless steel. "Guess that old joke doesn't apply, does it?" Nick asked, the smirk in his voice as evident as the one on his face.

Grissom glanced up, perplexed. "What? Oh. No, I suppose it doesn't." He turned his attention back to the sink "You get any prints?"

"A few good ones, most were partials and smudges."

"The clear one's probably belong to the vic, he did live here after all." Grissom was staring into the sink.

"Uh-huh."

"Anything outside?" Griss asked running a cotton swab through the blue streaks.

Nick shook his head, "The ground cover isn't contusive to footprints, and there's nothing at all on the outside windows. What're you looking for anyway?"

"Our killer had to wash up, but apparently cleaned up after himself as well." Grissom stood and held up the swab for Nick's inspection. "Bleach."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Asphyxiation." Doc Robbins explained easily.

"The rag in his mouth." Grissom noted.

"Umm hmm. One corner slipped down his throat, cutting off his oxygen supply. Extensive internal damage from the broom stick, but COD is asphyxiation."

"So," Grissom began slowly, the thoughts forming in his head like train cars hooking up with each other "It's possible the killer didn't _intend_ for him to die."

The doctor shrugged. "I suppose it's possible, yes."

--

Nick stepped out of the locker room after dropping the broomstick with Hodges to analyze and the swabs of the blood caked on to the handle with Wendy in DNA, he'd slipped into the locker room to hang up his jacket. Nick stepped out into the corridor intent on finding Brass to check on progress of the background check on their victim, Howard Whitmere. His peripheral vision caught sight of a mass of blonde hair as Eve came out of Catherine's office and headed down the hall. She turned the other way, reading from a file folder open in her hands as she walked.

Nick caught himself grinning, and glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention to him. "Eve," he called out to get her attention, but she kept walking. "Eve," he tried again. She turned, walking into the trace lab.

He cocked his head as he walked toward the doorway she just slipped through. About a foot away from the door, he heard an unmistakable voice, an arrogant semi nasal tone.

"So, how're you getting along?" Hodges asked.

"Uh, ok," Eve answered, a little confused by the question.

Nick snuck up to the door, peeked quickly in. Hodges back was to him, Eve was facing both Hodges and the doorway.

"No, really, are you making friends here in Vegas?" Hodges asked, not realizing Nick had placed himself in the open doorway, leaning against the jam with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah, of course." Eve answered, not daring to take even the briefest glance to Nick.

"How 'bout a man?" Hodges asked, and cocked his head, the picture of concern.

Eve nodded, "Some of them are men, of course" and licked her lips, holding back the laugh she felt building as Nick put a fist to his mouth, holding in his own laughter at her avoidance of the true meaning of the question.

"No, no." Hodges shook his head and adapted a tone as if he was speaking to a child. "I mean a boyfriend, anyone like that?" For some reason, he chose that moment to look into the microscope, giving Eve the chance to make actual eye contact with Nick.

"Yeah," she said slowly, watching Nick's chest move with his deep breath. "There's someone like that."

"Serious?" Hodges asked, sounding disappointed and hopeful at the same time.

Eve gazed at Nick for a moment, weighing her answer. "I think it may be, yeah."

"Well, if this jerk doesn't-"

"Hodges," Nick spoke up a little louder than he intended. "Leave Eve alone man."

Hodges jerked with the sound of Nick's voice, coming up from the microscope quickly. He did a double take; seeing Nick leaning comfortably in the doorway, it was obvious he'd been there and heard the whole thing.

"I was just offering to introduce her around, let her meet some people outside the lab."

"I know what you were offering," Nick peeled himself off the doorjamb.

Looking at anything other than either man's eyes, Eve walked past Hodges and out the door, Nick right behind her. She waited until she turned the nearest corner before she stopped and turned slightly, putting her back against the wall.

"Hey," she said as Nick came to a stop next to her, gazing up at him through her lashes, a sly, very unprofessional grin on her lips.

"Hey yourself," Nick returned the smirk, and again glanced around them. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

Eve blinked, "No, sorry." She held up the folder she was carrying. "Deep in thought, I guess."

"Whatcha got?" Nick asked as they began walking again.

"Report on a grand theft auto Sara and I had a few weeks back, a stolen BMW, the guy tired to heist another one yesterday, but got caught in the act this time. Day shift processed his prints and my case came up." She let the folder drop to her side.

Nick nodded once, "Good guys win again. Hey," Eve brought her hand to her mouth and yawned widely, Nick grinned brightly at her. "You wanna grab some breakfast when shift is over? Promise I'll let you get some more sleep."

"Now why would I want to do that?" She asked, the sly smile returning. "Besides, I'm off tomorrow night, I can always sleep then."

"You're off tomorrow?"

"Ummhmm."

"Yeah, uh, I am too, I think."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Well. Isn't that…lucky." The glint in her eyes made Nick chuckle and look at the floor.

"Hey you two." Warrick came around the corner, still dressed from court. The blazer was off and slung over his shoulder, hanging from a hooked index finger. His tie was loosened, the knot down around the second button of his shirt. And the unbuttoned collar exposed his neck and part of his collarbone.

Warrick quickly took in the sight of his fellow CSI's huddled in the hall, their body language and rather guilty expressions told him he'd interrupted a conversation about something other than evidence and crime scenes. He shot Nick a congratulatory grin, and damn near clapped his friend on the back.

Nick and Eve took a step apart from each other, just before Sara turned the corner, also dressed in going to court clothes, looking almost alien in a skirt and heels. "Hey," she said slowly, noticing the odd atmosphere.

"Hey Sar," Eve said brightly "How was court?"

"I think Judge Reingold was flirting with me," Sara said, stepping through the little triangle the CSI's bodies had formed in the hallway, and headed toward the locker room to change.

"Isn't he like eighty something?" Eve asked, following Sara, glad to have an excuse to get out from under Warrick's amused gaze, shooting Nick a quick apologetic glance as she passed him.

"Yeah, he is." Sara answered Eve's question.

"Ew, that's kinda gross" Eve began to chuckle at the thought.

The men stood still, listening to the women's conversation dissolve into laughter as they headed down the hall. Nick avoided Warrick's eyes by looking at the floor again. "So…" Warrick began. "I guess you got over your 'company ink' problem, huh?"

Nick shook his head, as he lifted his gaze from the floor to his friend. "I'm not telling you anything," he said strongly, but his smile betrayed him.

Warrick snorted, still amused "You don't have to, man."

"Hey, 'Rick" Nick tried changing the subject "are you off tomorrow?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I need you to switch with me."

--

Catherine found Brass in his office and on the phone; Brass looked up, and waved her in, gesturing to one of the chairs that faced the desk. "Yes sir," Brass said into the phone then paused, listening.

Cath chuckled; she could hear the Sheriffs' voice coming through the earpiece of the desk phone. "They will," Brass said, then pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the handset. His expression told Catherine the Sheriff had hung up abruptly.

"Sheriff on your ass?" She asked, with no attempt to keep the humor out of her voice.

"Like I'm a five dollar hooker," Brass replaced the handset back in its cradle and folded his hands on the top of the desk. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"Background check on our victim, Howard Whitmere."

Brass picked up a folder and handed it to her. "Here's the info I came up with, Howard Whitmere, 39, architect, moved to Vegas from Reno two years ago. Divorced, ex still lives in Reno, no kids."

"Girlfriend or … anyone like that in Vegas?" Catherine asked, flipping though the pages in the file.

Brass considered the CSI for a moment. "You thinking he was gay?"

She shrugged. "Only a possibility, given the circumstance of his death."

The captain gave her nod of agreement, and lifted his coffee cup. "It's possible, but if it is a gay thing, he was covering his tracks; girlfriend dropped by the house after you left this morning." He took a slug of coffee and grimaced as he put the cup down. "Cold. Both the ex's and the girlfriends name and numbers are in the file."

Catherine closed the file as her cell phone rang. "Willows," she answered and paused a moment listening. "Ok, I'll round them up." Closing the phone with a snap, Cath looked across the desk to Brass. "Grissom," she explained. "Wants to meet on the case." She stood; walking to the door and tossed a, "See ya," back over her shoulder.

--

On her way to Grissoms office, Catherine pulled her cell phone back out, ready to dial Nicks phone to tell him Griss wanted to see them in his office, when she turned the corner and saw both Nick and Eve in the layout room. _Two for one _Cath thought to herself, making rounding everyone up all that much easier, and she took one step toward the doorway, when something stopped her.

If anyone would ever ask, Cath wouldn't be able to explain what it was that made her stop, something in the air, perhaps, the invisible bubble that seemed to surround the two of them. Or maybe it was the smile of Nick's as he leaned down with his elbows on the table, running a finger under the edge of the sleeve of Eve's shirt, saying something that made Eve grin.

Catherine watched the two of them, folding her arms against her chest, unconsciously embracing the report from Brass. _She's very aware of him_, Catherine thought, _his presence, his nearness to her_. Catherine watched them through the glass, safe in the knowledge that neither were aware of her, or of anyone else. Cath observed Eve watch Nick's hands, like he was a magician with the secrets of the world hidden in his palms. And just like that, Catherine's suspicions from the morning turn in to full fledged _knowing._

* * *

Thank you, wraiths-angel, yourdarkestsecret13861, Jen Lennon and last but never least AlwaysWrite for the reviews and a big Thanks to Miss-Andromache for the beta. I hope you're all enjoying the story. 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"_If _death was the intended outcome the crime was clearly premeditated." Grissom took off his glasses and kneaded the bridge of his nose.

"The DNA under the vics nails was his own, probably from scratching an itch," Eve offered.

"Prints on the broom closet came back as the vic's too. And nothing from the broom handle itself, not even smudges." Nick said.

"With the lack of physical evidence at the scene, we obviously have a killer who knows how to cover his tracks," Catherine said.

"Okay, so what? We round up everyone who's ever watched one of those forensics shows on TV?" Eve asked.

"An architect, could be mob related," Catherine suggested.

"Doesn't seem likely," Nick responded "if they wanted the guy dead, they'd have just shot him."

"Maybe it's another lovers game gone horribly wrong," Eve suggested.

"With a broomstick?" Nick asked and turned toward her. Eve shrugged.

Grissom slid his glasses back on and looked around the room. "The broom was most likely a weapon of convenience, the killer counted on there being something in the house. Everyone has a broom, or a mop, or a toilet plunger. The whole point of the rape is degradation, humiliation."

"We need to try to figure out if the victim was singled out for personal reasons, or if it was a random follow home and attack. Nicky, did you get a hold of the girlfriend or ex?"

Nick gave Grissom a look of amusement. "No Gris, it's five in the morning."

Grissom looked at his watch and sighed deeply at how fast time passes.

Catherine sat forward in her chair. "Gil, we've all been on the clock for twelve hours."

Another deep sigh. "Yeah, you're right, Cath. Go home, all three of you."

"You need sleep too, Grissom," Catherine reminded him as she stood up to leave.

"I will," he met Catherine's eyes, her doubtful gaze reining down on him. "I promise."

--

"Food. Food is what I need right now," Eve said shutting her locker door.

Catherine walked in, and made her way to her own locker. "You guys going to breakfast?"

"Yeah, you wanna come with?"

"Rain check. I've got just enough time to get home and see Lindsay before school."

"You sure, Cath?" Nick asked as he slipped on his jacket.

"Yeah, but you two have fun."

"Ok, see you Thursday." Nick told her.

Catherine's brow knitted. "Thought you were working tomorrow night?"

"I, uh…" Nick paused, and shot Eve a shy glance. "I was, switched with Warrick."

Catherine couldn't help but notice Eve pull her lips in, suppressing a smile.

"Okay… Well, you two have fun." Catherine repeated herself with a conspiratorial glint in her eye.

She watched them leave the room, and again, Nick's hand fell to the small of Eve's back. With a deep sigh and just a touch of jealousy, it'd been so long since she'd experienced the giggly endorphins of new love, Catherine slipped into her jacket and closed her locker door

In the hall, she nearly collided with Sara, who had her nose buried in a file, reading as she walked. "Hey, there," Catherine greeted, announcing her presence before Sara could plow into her.

Sara looked up quickly. "Hey. Sorry, Cath."

Catherine gave her a quick quirky smile. "Whatcha got?"

"Case file from a stolen car Eve and I had. They caught the suspect," Sara glanced around them, quickly searching the halls, and as she did, Warrick turned the corner, stopping next to the women.

"Hey, haven't seen you all night," he said, glancing down at Catherine.

"Caught a murder early. Before shift actually." Catherine tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder.

"That one Nick and Eve were on?" Warrick asked.

Catherine nodded, and opened her mouth to give further details, but Sara spoke first. "Yeah, where is Eve, I'd like to talk to her about this," she held up the folder on the stolen car.

"Grissom cut us loose a little early, we've been on the clock for twelve hours now."

Sara raised her eyebrows, and actually looked at Catherine, taking in the jacket she had on, and the purse slung over her shoulder. "Just now?" She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, toward the parking lot door "Maybe I have time to catch her…" Sara tuned toward the door.

"NO," Catherine and Warrick said in unison then looked at each other, each confirming the others suspicions.

"Okay," Sara said slowly, knowing something was up, but not knowing what.

Catherine tried to recover quickly, "You probably wouldn't catch her anyway."

"Okay," Sara responded, just as slowly.

"So," Warrick began, changing the subject, "See you tomorrow Cath?"

"See you tomorrow, Warrick."

--

Nick sipped his coffee, watching in fascination as Eve swallowed the last bite of pancake and licked her syrup sticky lips. She gave him a satisfied smile and sighed contentedly, patting her stomach. "You get enough?" He asked, teasingly. Besides the pancakes, she'd ordered scrambled eggs, bacon and hash browns, and had eaten every single bite.

Licking her lips again, she smiled unashamed, "Felt like I hadn't eaten in years."

Nick cocked his head, "Long as you got enough, Darlin', that's all that matters."

The 'darlin' was not lost on her; she felt a blush creeping into her cheeks, and was grateful Nick was sliding out of the booth and not looking at her reddening face.

Fishing out his wallet, Nick left a tip on the table. Eve glanced at the bill as she slid out from behind the table. "Are you always such a big tipper, or are you trying to impress me?"

He held her jacket open for her, and as she slid her arms in, he held her shoulders, leaned closer, whispering in her ear "Do I still need to impress you?"

She turned her head slightly, shifted her eyes toward him. "Always," she laughed.

--

The sun had begun to rise during their meal, bright daybreak battling the neon signs for jurisdiction of the city. "Feel like walking off some of that breakfast?" Nick asked, slipping his arm around Eves shoulders as they left the diner.

"Good idea," she bumped her hip against his and grabbed hold of his hand hanging off her shoulder.

A few blocks down, Nick steered them around a corner. "Where're you taking us?" she asked glancing up at him.

"You'll see," he answered her, teasing.

A drunken tourist rounded the corner, a block in front of them, staggering his way toward them. Eve pushed her body in closer to Nicks and pulled his arm tighter around her. As the drunk passed them, Nick felt Eve's body relax again. "Ok?"

"Umm hmm, just a little cold"

"Ok," Nick wasn't sure he believed her entirely, but could understand an anxiety around strangers. He let it go, not wanting to mar their day-off, especially when it had just begun. He steered her across the street and around another corner.

"Almost there," he said, somewhat giddy.

"Where?"

"There," Nick pointed. Eve followed his gaze, seeing their destination. .

She grinned up at him. "The Bellagio."

"The fountains," Nick corrected.

As they got closer to the fountains, the breeze carried the spray of the water, sprinkling their faces. A Dean Martin classic was playing through the loud speakers. Eve took hold of the railing; Nick stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"It's prettier at night, but I like it better this time of day, not so many people around." Nick leaned down and spoke close to her ear, his shadow of a beard scratching against her skin.

"You come here a lot?"

Nick shrugged, rested his chin on her shoulder. "I come here when I can't sleep, need to clear my head."

She ran her hands down his forearms, letting them come to rest on top of his hands. The soothing voice of Dean Martin surrounded them as they watched the dancing streams of jetting water.

Toward the end of the song, he kissed her, near her ear. Dean Martin faded, giving way to the swelling strings of a Celine Dion serenade, and the breeze kicked up, misting them with spray, Eve shivered and Nick tightened his grip around her waist. "You ready to head home?"

She nodded, "Yeah."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Eve's stomach flipped as Nick unlocked his front door, remembering standing on this very spot, the rain, and her hesitation at knocking on his door that previous morning. Now, as she watched his back muscles move, and he turned to smile at her as he opened the door, she thought thatshe had made the right choice, that everything was going to be ok.

There was no shyness, and no urgency, they were like two old lovers, once lost but found again. He took her face in his hands, staring into her eyes for a moment before he kissed her. She responded, returning the kiss quickly. He broke from her, pulling away just slightly, "You taste like syrup," he teased lightly. She giggled when leaned in and ran his tongue over her lips. With a devious smile, he took her hand in his and led her upstairs.

They took their time, lingering over each other, discovering the landscape of the others body, savoring the sounds and smells of one another, familiar but new at the same time. Each mesmerized by the other, awestruck by how they fit together, their bodies in harmony with the other. They luxuriated in endless time, tasting each other with tantalizing, leisurely long kisses with lingering tongues.

--

Later, much later, they slept. Eve sprawled out on her stomach; one arm draped over Nick, sleeping deeply, when she felt him begin to stir, his whimpering breaking though her dreams slowly. By the time he was thrashing and screaming, she was fully awake on her knees shaking him awake.

"Nick! Nick! Wake up!"

His eyes opened, wide and confused as he searched his own bedroom trying to determine where he was. Sweat trickled down his forehead, stinging his eyes.

"Nicky?" Eve ran the back of her fingers up his cheek; trying to center him, calm him. He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked at her. "Don't move," she directed, and crawled out of the bed, returning a moment later with a glass of water. "Here Nicky, drink this," she said, handing him the glass.

He did, sipping slowly and staring at her over the rim. She slipped the empty glass from his hands and set in on the nightstand. "So much for impressing you, huh?" He asked, his voice horse and his drawl deeper.

She reached up, sweeping his matted hair off his forehead. "Nightmares are a part of life for normal people. Add to that that you see death every day-"

"That's not what it was."

"I know," she said quietly. "I know what it was."

He put a hand on her thigh, "You're the only one who's seen me like that, expect for the people at the-" he swallowed hard, tears filling his dark eyes, remembering the first days after his rescue, "at the hospital."

"You haven't had a girlfriend since then?"

He shook his head, smiling wanly, "I haven't slept next to a woman since Kristy."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, he couldn't tell if it was uncertainty or jealousy. He leaned toward jealousy. "Kristy?"

"Yeah, she-" he moved his eyes away from hers. "She was a girl I met on the job. Several times, actually." He paused, debating how much to tell her. "She died," he finally settled on. "She - she started to use me, but was killed before she had the chance to get all of what she wanted."

"Killed? Accident or-"

"Her pimp killed her. An hour or two after I left her bed," he let it all out, no point in trying to gloss over the truth.

Eve sat back on her feet, staring at him, her lips parted slightly in astonishment. After a moment, she began to chew on her bottom lip. He didn't say anything, thinking it best to let her work it out for herself. She released her lip from her teeth and quickly licked her lips, "Nick-"

He raised his eyebrows as a response "Yes Darlin'?"

Her face softened, a quick look flashed in her eyes and was gone again, and she smiled softly. "Think you can sleep again?"

--

"What the hell are you still doing here?" Ecklie's voice and presence was like a bucket of cold water to Grissom. He glanced up from the reports on his desk to find the Assistant Director standing in his doorway and glancing irritated at his watch.

"Good morning, Conrad." Grissom smiled as politely as his mood would allow.

"Gil, you've already booked quite a bit of overtime this month" Ecklie waved a dismissive hand toward Grissom's desk. "Whatever that is can wait, you need to leave for the day."

Grissom tossed the pen he was holding into the pencil cup like a javelin. "Alright Conrad, if you say so." Grissom tidied up his desk, watching Ecklie leave out of the corner of one eye, and wished he'd listened to Catherine after all.

--

Nick woke gradually, drifting up from the realm of dreams, not wanting to relinquish the snug comfort of sleep to the glaringly bright sunshine. Still half asleep, he reached his hand out to touch Eve's shoulder and his eyes flew open, fully awake, when his hand landed on the mattress and the found empty space beside him.

Tossing the sheet off of, Nick grabbed his robe and slipped it on as he dashed down the hall.

Eve was curled up in his armchair in the living room, her feet tucked to her side, flipping through a large book lying open across her lap. She turned the page and then lifted the book up a little, inspecting something on the page more closely. Her attention was so intense, he knew she hadn't seen him.

In the alcove between the hall and the living room, Nick leaned up against the wall, watching her. Eve's hair fell over her face like a curtain as she ducked her head even further into the book, running a finger across the page and stopping about midway. She lifted her hair, flipping it out of her face and caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. She jumped, the book flying off her lap to the floor, and she'd maneuvered her body into the corner of the chair before she recognized him. She put her hand on her chest and felt her heart pounding like it was about to bound out of her skin. It all happened so quickly, Nick only had time to pull himself off the wall and by the time he'd taken one step she'd realized who she'd seen, and was starting to giggle at her over reaction.

"That's a hell of a 'good morning' you got there," he said as he crossed the room, picking up the book from where it landed.

"You startled me," she said, still laughing.

"To say the least." He looked down at the book in his hands. His high school senior yearbook. He held it up, the cover facing her, and cocked a questioning eyebrow.

"I was curious, and you were asleep."

"You could have woken me up," he said mischievously, stepping up to the chair and slowly leaning down, putting his fists on either chair arm. He hovered teasingly over her for a moment, then gradually leaned down to her, and kissed her softly.

She touched his jaw with her fingertips. "Good morning. How're you feeling?"

"Hungry," he said and smiled.

"I'll fix us some lunch, then I really should go home."

His eyes narrowed "You don't have to…"

She tugged at the tee-shirt of his she was wearing "I need fresh clothes."

"I have more tee-shirts," he said hopefully.

She smiled "Yeah. But your underwear isn't gonna fit me."

He stood up and put his hands in the air, finger sprawled, "I give." He headed for the kitchen. "What would you like? Don't think I have much, we could order something in."

Hoping up off the chair, she padded into the kitchen after him. "I'll find something to fix."

He shook his head, and picked up the receiver on the phone, dialing as he spoke. "I hate to tell you this, but you really need to shower." He laughed as her jaw dropped. "Sorry babe" shrugging, he continued. "You don't smell like Pledge anymore. I'll order, and be up in a minute." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Huffing out a laugh, she gave in. "Ok." She turned and headed down the hall, tossing a smoldering look back over her shoulder. "I'll be waiting."

He heard the shower start at the same time the restaurant answered the phone, and suddenly, his hunger was replaced by another appetite. He hung up the phone without ordering.

Half way down the hall, he could hear Eve's voice over the spray of the shower, singing. As he reached the bathroom door, he paused to hang his robe from the hook on the door. Steam billowed out, filling the bathroom. What was she singing? _Xanadu? _Laughing, he pulled the shower curtain back and stepped into the tub with her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Brass stared at the phone sitting idle on his desk. He'd just hung up with the ex-wife of the latest victim, and the acid in his stomach was churning so much he felt like he'd been talking to his own ex-wife. "Bitter lady" he mumbled under his breath, and drained his coffee cup, thinking that he was somewhat glad she wasn't at all helpful, for if she'd known anything about Howard's life since their divorce, he would have had to speak to her longer. As it was, the ten-minute conversation had been enough.

By the clock on the wall, it was still a good sixty minutes before the CSI graveyard shift was due in, but if he knew Grissom…The captain picked up the phone again and dialed the supervisor's desk.

"Grissom," a tired voice answered on the second ring.

"I had a feeling you'd be in. Hang tight, I'm on my way there."

On his way down to Grissom's office, the captain stopped to refill his coffee, and poured a second cup for his friend. A coffee in each hand, the case file balanced on top of the mugs, Brass made his way down the hall, and stopped in Grissom's open office door.

The CSI was leaned back in his chair, reports and loose papers littered his desktop in what Brass had always assumed was an orderly fashion, appearances not withstanding. Grissom sat up from his leaned back position as Brass walked in and set Grissom's coffee down in front of him.

"Thanks," Grissom said with a weak smile.

Brass settled himself into the chair on the other side of the desk and set his own coffee cup on the edge. "Talked to the ex-Mrs. Whitmere," he shook his head, "She doesn't know a thing. Hasn't been in touch with Howard since he left Reno. She didn't even seem upset about his death."

"Did you happen to mention the _manner_ in which he died?" Grissom asked, and sipped his coffee.

"I didn't go into details."

"Which means you didn't mention the broomstick."

Brass nodded. "Right, I didn't mention the broom. I told her he suffocated during the commission of a crime. She didn't ask for any details."

"How 'bout the girlfriend?"

"Another dead end." Brass picked up the file from his lap and read the details of the interview. "Girlfriend, Charlotte Banks, stripper at the Cat Tails Club. Well, she was his girlfriend for six months, and was, in fact, at his house the morning after the murder to give him back some things he'd left at her apartment, and break up with him."

"Why the breakup?" Grissom asked intrigued, sounding a bit like an old lady gossiping over the back fence.

Brass shrugged to answer the question. "All she'd say was that he'd behaved '_ungentamenly'._" He used his fingers to quote the air for that last word.

"That could be anything," Grissom said dejectedly.

"Maybe he didn't open the door for her, or maybe he didn't buy her the diamond bracelet she wanted." Grissom gave Brass a look, and the captain shrugged. "The woman has gold digger written all over her. Big blonde hair, implants the size of Minnesota, and she's expiring faster than last weeks milk, she reeks desperation."

"If she's desperate, then what could the vic have done to make her break up with a live one?"

Brass shook his head once as he spoke "All she would say was that the past was past, and she wouldn't speak ill of the dead."

--

Nick parked in the space Eve pointed to and shut off the engine. Getting out of the truck, they met at the tailgate and crossed the parking lot toward Eve's apartment. "You're grinning," she said, glancing at him.

"I haven't seen your apartment before."

"And?"

"And, you can tell a lot about a woman by her home."

"Like what?" She asked, digging the keys out of her purse.

"Like if she has a lot of stuffed animals on her bed-"

"I don't."

"Unicorn collection?"

"Nope." She reached into her purse, fishing out her keys.

"The statue things of babies with really big eyes?"

Eve laughed at that one. "Not them either," they reached her door, she slid the key into the lock and turned to him "But my mother has a collection of stuffed baby unicorns with big eyes, that I'll inherit, so be prepared."

Nick laughed out loud as she opened the door. "Welcome to my casa, such as it is. I ah, haven't unpacked much yet."

Her living room blinds were drawn, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, coming out of the fading Nevada sun. When they did adjust, he saw that she wasn't exaggerating; she hadn't unpacked much.

The walls were bare; boxes lined the wall in the dining room. The only furniture was a tan sofa and a television that sat on top of a coffee table. A clean fireplace was built into the corner near the windows. Eve watched him look around the room. "I'm not here much, even before we…before the other night, I was either at work or asleep, well, you know how that is, and I when I did have some time, I just never felt like it…" her rambling sentence drifted off and she wrung her hands waiting for him to say something.

Nick shrugged "Long as there aren't any unicorns in those boxes, I'm cool."

She sighed a grateful sigh, relaxing. "Make yourself at home, there's soda in the fridge, I won't be but a few minutes." She headed toward her bedroom, and as she reached the doorway, he stopped her.

"Oh, hey," he called, she turned to find him pointing at the boxes "Your yearbooks in there?"

She shook her head laughing, and shut her bedroom door.

Nick turned on the television, flipping channels till he found a basketball game. After a few minutes, a commercial came on, and he went in search of that soda.

Twenty minutes and half a can of Dr Pepper later, he had a thought. "Hey, Evie?"

"Yeah?" she answered through the closed door.

"You got a dress? I mean like a nice dress?"

She opened the door, and walked out wearing a silky azure blue halter dress, that tied behind her neck, hugged her waist and draped over the curve of her hips. It was the rare perfect match of dress to woman. The high-heeled sandals she'd slipped into accentuated her calves and thighs, and Nick's eyes just roamed. She'd pulled her hair into a French twist, holding it in place with several rhinestone pins. She stepped out of the bedroom and twirled once, slowly. "This what you had in mind?"

Nick's mouth hung open, and it was a good ten seconds before he came to his senses and realized she'd asked a question. "Ah, yeah. That's… ah, that's what I … was thinking."

Eve chuckled slightly, enjoying his reaction. "So, where're we going Cowboy?"

"Going?" Nick cocked an eyebrow and stood up, crossing the distance between them slowly, like a tiger approaching a deer.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, but she put her fingertips on his chest, pushing slightly. "Nope."

"No?"

"No. We've already missed lunch, and frankly, I'm starving. So take me to dinner." She batted her eyelashes at him.

"Yeah, ok," he pulled his arms off of her and rubbed his stomach. "I have to admit, you're right." He held out his arm for her to slip hers though. "Ready ma'am?"

--

"So the doer got lucky." Brass sipped at his now cold coffee.

"I don't believe in luck," Grissom said evenly. "He knew what he was doing."

"Concealing the evidence?"

Grissom shook his head "Not concealing, disposing of." He used the pencil in his hand to point at the detective on the other side of his desk. "In premeditated crimes, the perp plans up to and _during_ the act, not after." His hand shifted, and the pencil started tapping the desktop. "This one planed the clean up as well."

"Well," Brass began, and shifted his legs, "You told me yourself you think death may have been accidental…maybe the guy had a kinky side. Picks up someone in a bar, or has a steady partner, things get out of hand, the vic dies." Brass shrugged his face. "The lover is somehow able to remain calm enough to remember some forensic show he's seen on TV and clean up after himself."

Grissom sat back in his chair, considering the proposal Jim had just laid out for him. After a moment, he shook his head. "But what about the vics fingerprints?"

"In his own home? It's to be expected."

"Right. If this was just kinky sex gone wrong, and the perp had enough presence of mind to wipe away any his own fingerprints, then he would have wiped away the vics as well. Since Nick _did_ find the homeowners prints, then the killer didn't do any wiping. He must have worn gloves."

Brass shook his head. "Unless he didn't touch anything."

"He touched the broom, that's certain."

"And you didn't find anything on the broom, did you? Not even smudges. Look," Brass held out his hands as he explained, "it's entirely possible this guy kept his hands in his pockets, expect while he was in the bedroom."

"We didn't find any semen on the body." Grissom approached another angle.

Again, Brass shrugged. "Neither man ejaculated. Vic died before the deal was closed."

Grissom sighed heavily, the air escaping his lungs as a killer was escaping his grasp.

Sara appeared in the open doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. "Hey, Gris, we just got a 419, body found in a motel swimming pool."

"Ok, Sara, take Greg with you."

--

Eve felt as if everyone in the restaurant was watching them as Nick led her to the dance floor. She glanced around, reassuring herself that except for one other couple already on the dance floor, all the other diners were busy with their own meals and conversations. Nick stopped halfway into the wooden dance floor and pulled her to him, slipping his hand through the curve of her hip, his palm against the skin of her back, and wrapping the fingers of his other hand through hers. She sighed quietly and put her free hand on the back of his neck.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you are?" he asked.

"Nope," she answered, and cocked her head, signaling him she was waiting.

Nick chuckled. "You're beautiful."

"Why thank you," she said in her best imitation southern accent. "You're very handsome yourself."

He bowed his head slightly. "Thank you ma'am."

"So, tell me, Cowboy…"

"Hmmm?"

"That girl in your yearbook…"

_Oh hell _Nick thought.

--

The radio inside the SUV crackled with voices, Greg reached over from the passenger side to turn on the real radio. Sara slapped his hand away.

"Jeeze, you're worse than my mom."

"Greg, I'm listening." Sara eased the truck to a stop behind a TransAm at a red light.

"You ever been in one of those? Buddy of mine in high school-"

"Greg" she said wearily, cutting him off before he got rolling.

Pouting, Greg turned to look out the window.

-

"A mustache?" Eve asked, then licked a drop of ice cream running down the side of the cone Nick had bought her, the sweet cold vanilla arresting her tongue. "You had a mustache?" They were wandering aimlessly down the strip, enjoying the night air.

"Yeah, it was pretty cool!" Nick bit into the mound of rocky road atop his own cone, and used a napkin to wipe his mouth, touching bare lip where the mustache used to be.

"What, like a Clark Gable kind of thing?"

"No" Nick thought about how to answer that. "More full, like Tom Selleck."

She stopped walking, near the front door of a tourist gift shop and tossed the last bite of cone into a nearby trashcan. Nick took one step past her, and stopped, turning back to face her. Cocking her head, she regarded him intently. After a moment, she shook her head once. "You could try a Clark Gable kind of thing."

Nick took her hand in his, and tugged her arm gently "Hey. Have I told you how glad I am that you changed your mind and came over that night?"

"I'm glad I did too." She leaned up and kissed him passionately.

-

"Hey, Sar, you wanna play 'I spy'" Greg said, staring out the passenger window.

"No, Greg, I really-"

"I spy… a co-worker with a great set of gams." Greg almost giggled.

"What are you talking about?" Sara leaned over toward his side, searching out the window.

"I'm talking about Eve playing tonsil hockey with Nick." Greg pointed, and Sara followed his direction. "Alright Nick!" Greg yelled to the closed window.

"Alright Nick? Alright Eve." Sara whispered, somewhat in astonishment.

A car behind them honked, and Sara looked up to see the light had changed, the TransAm long gone. She stepped on the gas, with a slight smirk on her face; glad to finally know what Warrick and Catherine had been insinuating the previous night.

-

Nick was grinning even before he opened his eyes after the kiss. Eve playfully batted her eyelashes at him and he laughed out loud at her coy flirting. He moved to continue their walk down the strip, when something in the store window they were in front of caught his eye. His grin grew wider.

Eve saw the gleam leap into his eyes, and she turned toward the store display window immediately zeroing in on the object that had caught his eye. She turned back to him giggling. "No," she protested through her laughter.

"Yes," he insisted, reaching past her to open the stores door.

--

Eve slipped out of her heels just inside Nick's front door. With an exhale of relief; she wiggled her toes in the carpet. Padding barefoot to the couch, she tucked her gift from the store, a white stuffed unicorn, on the back of the cushions. Picking up her heels, she headed down the hall to the bedroom.

"You're gonna leave him there?" Nick asked. "Why not take him into the bedroom?"

"He's to young to see what goes on in there." Eve called back.

Chuckling, Nick put the foil swan with their dinner leftovers in the fridge, next to a couple bottles of Corona. "Hey, Evie, you want a beer?'

"No thanks, half a beer and I'm out like a light," she said as she crossed from the bedroom into the bathroom.

She left the door open, and Nick heard the sink water running. Sauntering down the hall, he leaned in the bathroom doorway "Can't have that, can we?"

She'd changed into the top from a pair of pajama's his mother had sent him for Christmas. White with thin green and blue stripes, he'd opened the gift, and promptly stuck them at the top of his closet. Eve splashed water over her face, rinsing off the soap and make-up. Bent over the sink, the tail of the shirt rose over her hips, and Nick was positive this was not what his mother had in mind when she'd picked the pajamas out for him. Taking two steps in; he grabbed a towel off the rack and handed it to her as she shut off the water. "Thanks," she said, slurping lingering water off her lips.

"Nice duds" he told her, glancing down, letting his gaze linger.

"You like 'em?" she asked teasing.

"I didn't till I saw them on you" he said, his voice and accent deepening. He reached up, taking out the pins that held her hair up; the long tresses fell across her shoulders. Nick ran his fingers through the mane.

"Then why'd you buy them?" She asked, tilting her head a little.

"Didn't. My mom sent them to me."

Her eyes widened slightly, and she tugged at the shirttails. "So, these remind you of your mother?"

Nick shrugged, "Guess you could say that."

"Well, in that case," she said, as she undid the buttons and let the shirt slip to the floor.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

After a relaxing day of watching movies and fooling around when the mood stuck, Eve fixed them a dinner of chicken alfredo. After they cleaned up the kitchen together, they got dressed and headed for work.

Nick dropped Eve off at her apartment, so she could drive herself in. She arrived a respectable ten minutes after he did, joining the rest of the team in the conference room for assignments. Catherine was the last to arrive, apologizing about her mom being late to stay with Lindsey. Eve grabbed a soda from the vending machine, and choose a chair on the opposite side of the table from Nick. Both were concentrating so hard on not looking at each other, neither of them noticed the exchanged glances between Warrick and Catherine, or Greg ducking his head to hide a smirk.

"Ok," Grissom set a stack of papers down on the table with a thwap "Sara, Greg, your drowning last night?"

"Accidental." Sara told him.

"You're positive?"

Sara narrowed her eyes. "Yes, I'm positive. Blood alcohol was through the roof, wound on his head is consistent with knocking it against the side of the pool, where, we found scalp and hair tissue."

"He was drunk, stumbled, fell in to the water, hit his head and drowned." Greg added.

"Fine." Grissom nodded and moved on "Warrick?"

"Home invasion, I'm working the footprints."

Grissom nodded again. "Ok then. We got the tox results back," he slid the report across the table, Cath caught it, and picked it up to read, Nick stretching to read over her shoulder. "Traces of Ether in his blood." He looked around the table to the other CSI's on the case, his lips pursed in an _I knew I was right_ expression.

"So it was murder." Nick said quietly.

"Not necessarily," Eve spoke up. "The rape was, probably, but the death might still have been accidental."

"Catherine, you and Eve find our vics girlfriend, interview her again, she's holding something back, and it might take a woman's touch to get it out of her. Nick and I are going back to the scene." He picked up the pile of papers, tucking them into the crook of his arm and turned to leave.

"What's the girlfriend holding back?" Greg asked, curious.

Grissom stopped and looked at Greg. "If we knew that, we wouldn't have to interview her again," he said patiently. "Coming Nick?"

In response, Nick stood and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, giving Eve a clandestine glance that was seen by everyone expect Grissom.

"Should have taken the side streets," Nick muttered as he inched the SUV through stop and barely go traffic.

"Construction," Grissom responded. Nicks only answer was an impatient growl-like sound from his throat.

"So how was your day off?" Grissom asked, turning in his seat to face Nick.

Nick nodded slowly and kept his smile to a minimum. "Good."

"Do anything fun?"

Pieces of the day flashed through Nicks mind; suds running down Eves back, droplets of water on her skin; the blue dress; the drop of alfredo sauce he kissed away from the corner of her mouth.

"Nick?" Grissom questioned, getting his attention and breaking the spell. "What'd you do on your day off?"

_Screwed Eve until both of us were heaving hunks of flesh._ "Laid around the house," Nick said with a grin.

"Good." Grissom nodded "We all need to do that once in a while."

"Sure do. We sure do." Nick agreed with a chuckle that Grissom didn't understand.

--

"Ok, escort her down to my office please," Catherine hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair. Eve sat on the opposite side of the desk, her unfocused eyes staring off, a slight smile on her lips. Catherine recognized the smile, knew it well. "So…" Eve's eyes came back into focus and she glanced over the desk to Catherine. "You're pretty stoked."

Eve blinked. "Huh?"

Catherine leaned up, folding her arms on the desktop, a twinkle in her eye. "I said; you're pretty _stoked_."

Horror drifted over Eve's face for a moment, then it relaxed into acceptance as she took in Catherine's teasing demeanor. She ran her tongue over her teeth, making a quick clicking sound. "Are we that obvious?"

Catherine grinned broadly and shook her head. "Not really. I wouldn't have been looking for the signs, expect for the fact that you were wearing a man's tee-shirt after not answering your cell for an hour."

Eve pulled her lips together, a failed attempt to hide a grin.

"After that, I paid attention." Catherine shrugged. "But not too obvious, no. Grissom won't figure it out for a while."

"Anyone else know?" Eve asked somewhat sheepishly.

Catherine shook her head quickly "Don't think so," she stood as she spoke, her gaze shooting to the doorway. "Thanks Judy," she said to the receptionist standing next to an Amazonian blonde in the hall.

The petite receptionist nodded once, shot Eve a look that made Catherine twitch an eyebrow before turning her attention to the visitor as Judy turned and headed back to the front desk.

If Catherine had heard Capitan Brass describe Charlotte Banks to Grissom the day before, she'd have known just how accurate he was. A tall bottle blonde with implants that didn't move as she took a few steps into Catherine's office, she clutched a tiny sequined purse in her hands, her talon like nails with white French tips nearly digging into the fabric. Charlotte was every bit the stereotype stripper looking to marry up.

"Ms. Banks, thank you for coming down, I know it's late." Catherine held out her hand to the empty chair next to Eve, and Charlotte slid into it, tugging at her short skirt as she did.

"That's ok," Charlotte said in a high voice that was somewhere between Minnie Mouse and a baby-talk voice. "I was headed to work anyway, so it was no problem to come here first."

Catherine offered her a smile. "Good. Glad to hear that," she paused a moment. "Ms. Banks…"

"Oh, you go ahead and call me Charlotte."

Catherine nodded once as thanks "Ok, Charlotte, Captain Brass told us you were at Howard's house the morning after his death to break up with him." Catherine said the words gently, easing into the subject.

Charlotte's face clouded over. "Yes, that's right, I was gonna return his stuff to him that he'd left in my apartment."

"How long had you been seeing him?" Eve asked.

Charlotte shrugged "Six or seven months, something like that," she glanced at Eve in the chair next to her. "I thought he was gonna marry me."

"Charlotte," Eve said, holding the other woman's eye contact "we need you to tell us why you were breaking up with him."

Charlotte shook her head. "Didn't want to marry him anymore, he wasn't a gentleman."

"Did something happen?" Catherine asked leaning forward even more, her elbows on the desk, hands clasped together as if in prayer.

Charlotte turned her head away from them both, moving her eyes toward the ceiling.

Eve leaned in toward Charlotte, reached out and put a hand on her arm. "Whatever happened, you can tell us, it's ok."

Charlotte vehemently shook her head, tears beginning to stream down her face.

"Charlotte," Catherine said quietly "it may help us find the person who killed him." She traded glances with Eve.

Charlotte took a deep breath, wiping her face with fingertips; the long white tipped nails a hindrance. She glanced at Catherine from the corner of her eye. "Really? How?"

Catherine's hands came out of prayer position, falling outwards from the wrists. "We never know what might help us, some bit of information that may seem inconsequential to you could be the one piece that puts everything together for us."

Charlotte rolled her eyes heavenward again, but out of frustration not a hope for help. She shook her head, "Not inconsequential."

"What isn't?" Eve asked, "What happened?"

Charlotte took a deep breath, steadying herself for her pronouncement. "He tried to rape me."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"_Tried_ to rape her?" Nick asked, "He didn't … succeeded?"

Catherine shook her head slowly. "She got away from him."

"She's our first suspect," Grissom said from behind his desk. "Catherine, I want you to check her alibi, talk to her friends…" as Grissom went on telling Catherine what she already knew, Nick glanced up over to Eve. She stood with her arms folded across her chest, leaning up against the wall right next to the door. His eyes narrowed a bit, trying to decipher the expression on her face.

"…and check pharmaceutical records, see if she had access to Ether." Grissom finished. The office was silent for a moment. "Nick?" Grissom said, a little louder than his normal speaking voice, at the same time Catherine nudged his foot with hers, getting his attention.

"Wha-?" Nick broke his concentration on Eve, and she too was brought out of her trance by Grissom calling Nicks name. She glanced up just in time to make the briefest eye contact with Nick before he turned to look at Grissom. There was such sadness in her eyes, Nick felt overwhelmed with her grief from that stilted exchange. "Sorry Gris, my mind drifted." Nick hesitantly explained.

Grissom cocked an eyebrow at him, and then glanced to Eve. He pointed a pencil at Nick. "Check pharmaceutical records, see if the girlfriend or anyone else in the vic's life had access to Ether." Grissom repeated himself, holding Nicks eye contact.

Nick nodded and licked his lips. "Yes sir."

Grissom stared him down for a moment, then moved his fingers in a shooing motion. "Go." Nick stood up and turned toward the door. "You too Eve" Grissom added. Nick paused a moment, letting Eve escape first. Grissom watched them leave, then shifted his gaze to Catherine. "What's going on with those two?"

Cath played dumb. She moved her shoulders in the tiniest bit of the beginnings of a shrug. "Don't know what you mean," she said, avoiding actually answering the question.

Grissom cocked an eyebrow and held her gaze. "Uh huh," he muttered quietly.

-

Eve was half way down the hall before Nick caught up with her, reaching out and grasping her elbow stopping her. She turned to him; a less intense variation of the expression she had worn in Grissom's office met him. "What is it?" He asked, not bothering to lead up to the question slowly.

She shook her head and swallowed. "Nothing."

"Don't give me that, something's wrong."

"I guess, I ah…" she cleared her throat "I guess I have a hard time with the rape cases."

Nick stared at her for a long moment, searching her eyes for a deeper truth. Finally, he let go of her arm and said quietly, "We all do."

She nodded "I know."

"Hey," Catherine called from down the hall, near Grissom's office door. "let's go," she said and waggled a finger at Eve.

--

The Cat Tails Club brought back too many memories for Catherine. Standing just inside the front door letting her eyes adjust to the florescent lights of the club, the stage and it's occupant in the spotlight, coming into focus, Catherine adjusted her jacket, pulling it closed around her.

"Ladies…" there was a question behind the word. Catherine looked to her left to find the owner of the voice, a man who stood about an inch lower than Catherine. He looked at her with narrowed eyes, something Cath assumed was probably a permanent squint from years of staring at flashing red neon, she'd seen the same scowl on the face of the man who'd first hired her as a stripper, so many years ago. From her vantage point, Cath could see he was beginning to go bald, and the corner of his mouth twitched at irregular intervals.

He must have felt her eyes on his scalp, because he made a show of reaching up and soothing down his oily hair. "Table for two?" He asked, glancing past Catherine to Eve, a foul sneer like smile on his lips.

Catherine followed his gaze, turning to Eve, on her right and just behind her. Humor was in Catherine's eyes as she turned back to the man and said, "Actually," she flashed her credentials "we're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, we need to talk to some of your dancers."

"Yeah? 'Bout what?" He put his hands in his pants pockets, rocked back on his heels. His mouth twitched.

"You know Charlotte Banks?" Catherine answered his question with one of her own.

"Lotti? Course I know Lotti. What'd she do?"

Eve took a step up, joining the conversation, "We need to talk to Charlottes co-workers, anyone who was working two nights ago. Please."

He nodded as he ran his eyes up and down Eve. "Co-workers," he let out a gag-like laugh, the corner of his mouth snuck up like a wink "never heard them called that before. And I heard them called a lot of things."

Catherine took a breath. "We'll take that table now."

-

"Yeah, sure she was here," the redhead took a deep drag on her cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly. "I remember because she was upset his stuff was in her car, she wanted through with him A. S. A. P." She emphasized the letters, pausing between each.

"Did she tell you the reason for the breakup?" Catherine asked.

Red tresses shook back and forth, falling into her face. "No. I asked, Lotti's my friend, ya know, we girls gotta stick together, but she wouldn't tell me."

"Would you happen to remember what time she left?" Eve asked.

"Wouldn't know. She was still here when I left that morning."

-

While they were in the club, getting much the same answers from every girl they spoke to, daylight had begun to peek out from behind the curtain of darkness.

Eve clicked her seat belt and stretched her arms tiredly. From the drivers seat, Catherine glanced over at her. "Want me to drop you off at home?"

Eve rolled her head to the left, meeting Catherine's eyes. "No, thanks. Have something at the lab I need to check on," she smiled tiredly.

Catherine lifted her chin slowly, as if she'd forgotten. "Ah, yes. That's right, you do." She slipped the car into reverse and backed out of the parking spot.

"She didn't do it." Eve said.

Catherine twitched an eyebrow. "I don't think so either." She pulled out on to the street and headed toward the lab. "Wonder how Nick's doing on the Ether search."

--

Nick sighed deeply as he came to the bottom of yet another page.

"Nothing?" Eve asked from the doorway.

Nick looked up and smiled. "You're a sight for sore eyes. How'd the interviews go?"

She came into the room and settled onto the stool next to him, propping her chin in her hand. "Her alibi holds up. She was at work all night." Nick nodded once, signaling his understanding, and turned his attention back to the pharmaceutical logs. "How's this going?" Eve asked.

"It's gonna be awhile to get through all this."

"Won't wait for tomorrow?"

Nick looked at his watch, shook his head. "Nah, Grissom's got it bad for this guy." He glanced over at Eve. "You headed home?"

She nodded and reached into her pocket, pulling out a key. "Here, come over when you get off."

With a glance toward the doorway, Nick took the key and slipped it into his own pocket. "See you later."

She winked at him. "See ya Cowboy."

Nick glanced down at the speedometer, and quickly let up on the accelerator, surprised at the speed. He chuckled to himself, checking the rear view mirror, hoping he hadn't passed any cops. He made a right turn, a block from Eve's apartment, and felt his pulse quicken at the thought of her waiting for him.

A few of Eve's neighbors were getting in to their cars, leaving for work, as Nick pulled into the parking space next to where Eve had parked. Nick felt obvious as he shut off the engine and climbed out from behind the wheel. Two cars away, a brunette with bright pink lipstick was unlocking her car, and gave him a bright flirty smile. He raised his hand in greeting to be polite, but his mind was focused elsewhere.

Nick let himself in quietly, holding the knob tightly as he turned it. As he shut the door, thumbing the dead blot closed, he glanced toward the living room. The television was on, some morning talk show had two perfect dressed and quaffed people perched high on stools talking to a shiny starlet who seemed just a bit to happy to be there. The volume was turned low, the chatter playing quietly like background music in a movie. Eve was asleep on the couch, lying on her side facing the TV, the remote in her hand, resting on her hip, as if she'd fallen asleep watching, which, Nick supposed, she had.

Tiredly, he crouched down on his haunches in front of Eve, watching her sleep for a moment before envy got the better of him, and he reached out, pushing her hair out of her face. She stirred, waking quickly, smiling as she focused on him.

"Hey."

"Hey Sleeping Beauty" he grinned softly back at her and motioned for her to sit up. She did, and Nick fell into the soft cushions of the sofa next to her. Eve maneuvered herself, cuddling up to him, snuggling her head on his shoulder, letting her hand rest on his leg. He slipped an arm around her, his fingers absently twirling a strand of her hair.

"Cath knows" Eve whispered sleepily.

"So does Warrick" Nick told her, not at all surprised from the news about Catherine.

They sat together in a comfortable silence, neither aware they'd been seen by Sara and Greg as well.

Eve felt Nicks breathing slow and deepen; the fingers in her hair slowed their movement almost to a complete halt. She knew it wasn't a good idea for them to fall asleep on the couch. "You find the Ether?" she asked quietly, rousing him gently.

He opened his eyes, shook his head and focused on the television. The starlet had been replaced by a commercial for nasal spray. "No one in Howard's life had any access to Ether for the past six months." He reached for the remote and clicked off the television.

She heard the weariness in his voice, and glanced up at him, finding him staring off into open space. "You're still seeing all the lines from the logs, aren't you?"

He blinked and snorted grimly, leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah. I am," he answered.

She moved, sitting up, and swung her right leg over, so she was straddling him. His hand in her hair fell gently as she moved, coming to rest on her thigh as he lifted his head to look at her, life coming back into his eyes.

Eve reached up, gently soothing the hair off his forehead, then let her fingertips trace down the side of his cheek. "I know what you need." Nick lifted an eyebrow at her. "Sleep," she said playfully stern, then squealed and wrapped her hands around his neck, as Nick stood up with her. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked them into the bedroom.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"The Ether search came up empty, there's no evidence at all?" Ecklie sat up in his chair, crossing his arms on the desktop, leaning into it as if the extra few inches would allow him to hear Grissom better. "How is that possible?"

Grissom shrugged tiredly. "_The secret to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources_." Grissom lifted his chin a little as he quoted.

"What?" Ecklie asked wearily, slumping back into the chair.

"Einstein." Grissom crossed his legs. "Look, I don't know why there's no evidence, but there's not. Nick and I searched the entire house. I processed each fingerprint myself. All the prints belonged to the vic, his girlfriend, that Catherine and Eve have cleared," he took a breath. "And a cable repair man who's prints were confined to the television and the wall behind it." Grissom held up a hand, fending off the question in Ecklie's expression. "He was the emergency room with his five year old the morning of the murder."

"You checked with the hospital?" Ecklie asked.

Grissom answered the question with an incredulous look. "The little boy had a fever. They gave him Tylenol."

Ecklie sighed and shifted in his chair, tempeling his fingertips, deep in thought. After a moment, he waved the fingers of one hand in a shooing motion. "Put it on the board, work it in between cases. No sense in wasting any more time."

Annoyance flashed in Grissom's eyes, and was quickly gone. "All right," he said slowly.

--

Nick opened his eyes to a mound of hair in front of his face. Eve was pressed up against him, the top of her head just at his eye level. He shifted gently, easing away from her; she rolled sleepily to her back, the sheet falling away from her body and a moment later her deep breathing retuned. Nick watched her sleep; peaceful within the realm of her dreams, his heart swelled watching her. His eyes roamed her skin, smooth, and dusted with the occasional freckle, and landed on the scar near her bottom rib. The skin surrounding the white, ragged slash puckered, and Nick thought it must have been a hell of a bike wreck she'd had as a kid. His thoughts drifted, images floated past his minds eye, imaginings of a future life, and knew he was completely in love with her. He felt himself falling back asleep, the corners of his mouth twitching into a satisfied smile.

When his watch alarm went off an hour later, Nick awoke from a pleasant dream and felt himself smiling. He rolled on his side, brushed strands of Eve's hair off her face and kissed her lightly next to her ear. "Hey," he whispered softly.

She stirred in response, twisting her body into his, snuggling closer. "Hmmm?" she answered still mostly asleep.

"I'm gonna head home," he told her.

She made a throaty noise of protest and snuggled closer. Nick smiled into her hair and rubbed her back. After a moment, she stretched and said something into his chest.

"What?" Nick said laughing at her muffled voice.

Eve pulled her head away and begrudgingly opened her eyes, looking at him. "I said, 'Why'?"

"Because Darlin', I need to change clothes. If I go back in the same clothes I wore yesterday, even Grissom will notice," he laughed as he spoke.

She made the same noise of protest and buried her head back into his chest. He held her for a few minutes, but when he felt her breathing even out, he swatted her ass. "Aren't you gonna tell me goodbye?"

She pulled her head away again "Bye," and purposely puffed out her bottom lip like a spoiled four year old.

Nick took her chin with his fingertips and pulled her to him kissing her pouted lip. Pulling away after the soft kiss, he stared into her eyes for a moment. She snuggled to him, resting her chin on his shoulder, breathing him in.

Nick held her, rubbing her back. "I love you," he whispered, the words easily slipping out of his mouth as if they'd been in love for a million years.

"I love you too" Eve murmured back, as easily as if she'd said it a thousand times, not just one.

They held each other, quietly, just being together.

--

Gil Grissom grunted and propped his head in his left hand, fingers digging themselves into his salt and pepper hair. His right hand held a pen, poised just above the paperwork on his desk. He'd come in earlier than usual; his administrative tasks beckoning as a dull throb in his head that had become a full-fledged thunder of a headache as he stared at the tedious formalities cluttering his desk. All the extra time he'd given himself had been eaten away by court documents for appraisal, case files that needed his signature and various red tape documents, all needed his attention. Glancing at his watch, he realized his team would be showing up soon.

Grissom tossed down his pen; it landed on the evaluation in front of him, marring the half filled out page with a streak of blue ink. He grunted again, and felt his gaze pulled to the fish shaped memo board hanging on the wall to his right. Howard Whitmere's autopsy photo confronted him, staring down with closed eyes. Regret filled Grissom's stomach. There was nothing that pleased him more than identifying a criminal, being a part of the mechanism that locked a killer behind bars. Whitmere deserved justice in his death, not to be pushed away and forgotten like so much paperwork.

Paperwork. The evaluation on his desk sent up reproachful vibes, tearing his attention away from the victim. With a deep sigh, he picked up the pen and considered the next question in front of him.

A rap on the office door interrupted his thoughts, and he was grateful to see Nick standing in the doorway grinning at him. "Dreaded paperwork?" There was something in the smile that was different, a something Grissom hadn't seen since before the kidnapping. Gil couldn't put his finger on exactly what the elusive element was, but he was glad to see its return.

"Not anymore," Grissom answered, almost smiling, tossing down the pen in defiance.

Nick stepped into the office, and clapped his hands, rubbing them together in a gesture of enthusiasm. "I thought I'd get the security video from the hospital, make sure the cable guy was actually there at the time Whitmere was being killed."

Grissom shook his head sadly. "No Nick, we've been told to move on," he pointed to the board and Nick followed the point, turning to find the same autopsy photo looking back at him.

The smile and enthusiasm was gone as Nick turned back to Grissom. "Ecklie is making us give up?"

Again, Grissom shook his head. "Not give up, we just have to move on."

With a sigh, Nick nodded slowly, reluctantly. "All right. What's next?"

Grissom stood up, pulling his jacket up off the back of his chair. "Let's go find out."

--

Eve was in the conference room talking to Sara about their grand theft auto case when Nick and Grissom walked in. Both women glanced over to the doorway at the arrival of the men, and Sara couldn't help but notice Nick held Eve's eyes tightly, giddy smiles spreading on both their faces. Sara cocked an eyebrow, Nick saw her, and guiltily tore his eyes away, glancing at the floor very briefly before he looked back up at Eve. Sara almost laughed at the magnetism between the two, amazed by the thought this could be something more than just a fling between her co-workers. Sara's eyes flickered between the two and as she took in the luster illuminating from Nick, and the shy glow radiating off Eve. Sara knew, as suddenly as Catherine's thoughts of _maybe_ had turned into _knowing_, that the two were hopelessly in love.

A thread of jealousy snuck into Sara's stomach and she glanced jadedly toward the oblivious Grissom as he fixed himself a cup of coffee. He felt her eyes on him, and turned to her, "Hello Sara," he greeted her in the aggravating amenable tone he used when he thought she was getting too personal with him.

Catherine arrived, walking through the door with her cell phone to her ear, "No Lindsey, it's way past time for you to be in bed, now get!" Catherine clicked the phone shut, and stared at the offending gadget for a moment before she stuck it back into her purse. Shaking her head, she headed for the coffee pot to pour some much-needed caffeine before she settled in to a chair at the table, joining the rest of the group.

Grissom surveyed his team, "Where's Warrick?"

"He's off today," Nick answered. "He and I switched."

Catherine grinned into her coffee cup and avoided Eve's eyes. "Greg's off tonight too," she offered anticipating Grissom's next question.

Gil nodded once, "Ok then." Looking at the clipboard, he started to hand out assignments.

Eve glanced around the table, confused, "What about the Whitmere case?"

"It's on the fish board," Nick answered her.

Catherine looked over to Grissom "Ecklie?" Gil nodded grimly.

"What's 'on the board' mean?" Eve asked Nick.

"Cold cases. The ones that got away." Nick made a squiggling motion with his hand, like a fish swimming.

"Oh," was all Eve said, and her shoulders slumped as she sat back in her chair.

"Ok," Grissom said, moving on "assignments."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: Just a note to thank everyone for the reviews. There's only a few chapters left, and I wanted to thank you all for coming back for each new chapter.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Nick and Eve fell into a pattern over the next few months, spending the majority of their time at his home, Eve's clothes slowly accumulated in his closet. On the days they managed to have off together, Nick showed her the sights of Vegas. The days off that that didn't co-ordinate, Eve would spend her off evening at her apartment, usually falling asleep before Nick let himself in and crawled in to bed with her.

This early morning was one of those times; Nick sat in front of the computer running fingerprints through AFIS, the oval ridge filled images of the prints on file flicked by, being compared against a print he'd found at the latest scene he'd been sent on, a breaking and entering at a private home on the outskirts of Las Vegas.

He crossed his arms over his chest and blinked rapidly, fighting off the monotony of being idle. His mind drifted, searching for something else he could be doing as the computer program tested and rejected thousands of fingerprints. Like a light bulb going off over his head, the Howard Whitmere murder came to mind. Nick rolled his chair to another nearby computer, clicked open the Internet, and typed Howard's name into the search box.

Whitmere had made the newspapers more often than any other victim he'd ever researched. Clicking on each link, Nick quickly read through excerpts of articles. His obituary; the articles regarding his murder –the rape aspect had not been released to the press- there were several articles from The Las Vegas Daily about the possibility of a home invasion killer, who's content seemed hell bent on trying to cause panic in the city.

Several articles dealt with Whitmere being hired to design a new hotel, two blocks off the strip. A black and white photograph showed Whitmere alive and well and shaking hands with a dot com millionaire in front of a scale model of the hotel.

Nick scrolled down through the search results reading the brief descriptions, bypassing most of the links. He was about to give up, when at the bottom of the second page of the results, one article caught his attention.

Whitmere cleared of charges 

Nick quickly clicked the link and the Reno Inquirer website popped up. He quickly read through the article, then went back to the beginning and re-read it slower, taking notes as he went. Ten minutes later, he was up and out of his chair, headed down the hall to Grissom's office.

--

"Grissom," Nick said grimly from the doorway.

Startled, Gil looked up. "Nick?"

"I did an Internet search on Howard Whitmere, found an article from the Reno Inquirer from five years ago, the article detailed how Whitmere had just been cleared of the rape charges against him."

Grissom's eyes narrowed as Nick went on, reading from his notes. "The girl was Carrie Thompson, a waitress at a bar Whitmere frequented. From what I can tell, the whole thing became a he said, she said, and his lawyer ripped her apart on the stand. The jury believed Whitmere's story; that it was consensual and the girl just liked it rough."

Grissom was silent for a moment; absorbing the information Nick had given him. "All right, research the case, what was the girls name, Carrie?"

Nick nodded, "Carrie Thompson."

"Find her Nicky."

Nick nodded and left the office.

--

Back at the computer, Nick accessed the Reno PD database and typed in Whitmere's name, drumming his fingers on the tabletop impatiently as the computer searched for the file. A moment later, the search result box popped up, and Nick's hand flew to the mouse, clicking the file open. Whitmere's mug shot stared back at him, dark circles under his wide, frightened eyes and his clothes were wrinkled, his tie askew.

A tab above the mug shot was marked 'Evidence-Victim' and Nick clicked on it. Carrie Thompson, 32 at the time of the incident, had driven herself to the Reno ER; doctors treated her for a puncture wound and performed a complete rape kit. The swab of semen taken was compared and matched positively to Whitmere's DNA sample the Reno CSI had obtained by warrant. The victim statement followed and Nick read through it, again jotting down more notes as he went.

Whitmere had been drinking heavily throughout that evening, and was thoroughly drunk when the bar closed. The victim, Carrie, told the Reno officers she'd known he was unable to drive himself home, so she called a cab. And had sent the bartender home while she waited with Whitmere for the taxi to arrive. Howard turned their idle chat sexual, and Carrie tried to remove herself from the conversation, making her way behind the bar, but Whitmere followed her, and, according to her statement, raped her. The wound came after the attack was over, when she fled from Whitmere and ran into a table, knocking over the table and a beer bottle, she fell, impaling herself with a piece of broken glass from the shattered bottle.

Taking a deep breath, Nick clicked on the link that took him to the photos Reno CSI had taken of Carrie Thompson in the emergency room. The first photo was of the victims back; dark purple bruising ran across the middle of her back, presumably from where she'd been pressed up against the edge of the bar during the rape. And Nick was positive it _had_ been rape, given Whitmere's recent attack on his own girlfriend. It was nothing but luck that Whitmere had the money to hire a shrewd defense lawyer, capable of playing the jury.

More photos followed, and he paged to the next one, finding the photo CSI had taken of the wound. Carries torso, from the neck to the hips, was in front of him, and he searched it with his eyes. Slowly, he shook his head. His hand seemed to be working of it's own accord as he clicked to the next picture. After a moment of searching the photo, he rose off the chair and left the lab.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Eve splashed handfuls of water over her face and reached for the towel next to the sink. Covering her face with the towel, she straightened up, and moved the towel down to her neck, glancing into the mirror, she gasped when she saw Nick's reflection from the doorway. "Hey you," she said brightly, turning toward him. "I wasn't expecting you so early."

"Hey," Nick said slowly. "Carrie."

She held the towel to her chest, searching his eyes as his words seeped into her brain. He watched the color drain from her face, her lips moving, searching for words. After a moment, she looked down at the floor and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry_? You killed a man, what the hell were you thinking?" Hs voice rose with each word.

She shook her head, still staring at the floor. "I didn't mean for him to die…" she looked up at him, her eyes flashing with regret and defiance "But he had to be punished; he had to know what it felt like to be raped, to have someone force their will…their body on you. Nicky, I-"

He cut her off, "Don't. Don't confess to me," his eyes grew black with his anger.

"You don't know how often I wanted to tell you. When you told me about Kristy, I almost told you then what I'd done, I just couldn't bring myself to…" her jaw worked and tears ran down her cheeks.

She took a breath, trying to steady herself to explain, "For _five years_, punishing him was all I could think about. I heard he got divorced because of the charges, but that wasn't enough. I even tried moving away. I went to Carson City thinking I could put it all behind me, but," she shook her head and sobbed, the words caught in her throat "But I couldn't. I lost job after job because I was to depressed to get out of bed everyday. I even dreamed about hurting him, but knew I'd never get away with it." She lifted the towel and wiped the tears off her face. "Then one night, after I'd been fired again, I was watching one of those forensic shows, thinking I could maybe learn enough to hurt him the way he hurt me, so I could finally be free of the humiliation. Oh, Nicky…"

She moved toward him, and Nick took two steps backward, his hand rising to his hip, resting on his gun. Her mouth fell open in horror and shame, and she pulled her body in, squeezing her shoulders together, making herself as seemingly harmless as possible as she slowly passed by him and into the bedroom.

Sitting on the bed, she grabbed a pillow and clutched it to her, hanging her head in despair and defeat.

"That's why you became a CSI," Nick said, putting the pieces together as he moved into the bedroom doorway, his hand still on his weapon. "To learn all the evidence you would leave behind, and how to clean up after yourself."

She nodded, silently staring at the floor.

"Tell me how you did it," Nick demanded.

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter now."

"Yes it does Eve!" He closed his eyes; hearing her name, her fictitious name, come out of his mouth. He didn't even know the name of the woman he loved. Nicks eyes filled with tears, and he wished he didn't love her so much. "Who's the real Eve Jordan?"

Her shoulders slumped, she deflated a little. "She's a hit and run victim in Minneapolis, I found her name on the Internet. She's in a coma, so I knew I could use her name to get into school and to get the job."

Nick nodded despite himself. "I want to know how you did it," he demanded again.

She looked up at him, wearily. "I stole the Ether from the Carson City CSI. I wore gardening gloves over latex; tried not to touch anything in the house but the broom and wiped that off before I left."

"You should have left hair all over the place."

"I vacuumed my way out, it got rid of any hair and footprints too. Took the bag with me, tossed it into a dumpster behind one of the hotels."

A sudden memory hit Nick with the force of a tidal wave. "That scene was the day after… after our first night together." He swallowed roughly, the true meaning of his realization sinking into his stomach. "You came to me after you killed him?" He whispered hoarsely, his throat tight from holding back the urge to shout at her.

She sniffled and met his gaze with eyes that were red and swollen from her tears but her gaze was steady. "You were _never_ part of the plan." He shook his head in disbelief. "Nicky," she continued, desperation crawling into her voice "you don't understand what it was like. When he died…I felt such enormous relief …and everything became so clear. I became a CSI because of Howard, and I met you because I was a CSI. It was as if I had permission from God-"

"No," Nick said stiffly, holding out a hand as if he could push the words away from him. "God had nothing to do with this," he turned away from her.

"Nicky," she called his name, her voice so full of desperation; he was compelled to turn back toward her. She stared at him for several moments, searching his eyes for some tiny trace of compassion, before speaking again. "I _do_ love you."

Slowly, he shook his head and turned away, walking into the living room, putting distance between them.

Eve watched him walk away from her, thought about running after him, begging him not to hate her, to understand. Fresh tears ran down her face as she realized that was impossible. Everything she had hoped for and dreamed of was gone like a puff of smoke.

Burying her face into the pillow in her arms, she inhaled deeply, his sent filling her. She closed her eyes, and remembered how he had held her, his hands rubbing her back when he first whispered that he loved her. Opening her eyes, she listened as Nick sobbed in the living room, and then let out an agonized howl. She put her hand over her mouth, uselessly trying to hold back her own sobs. Clutching the pillow tighter, her gaze drifted to the nightstand next to her bed.

Nick paced the living room. His throat muscles hurt from the force of the scream. His head hurt, bursting from all that she'd confessed to him. His heart hurt from the loss of the love he thought he'd finally found. The love that was ripped out of him so suddenly and completely. He wanted to go back in time, go back to that moment in the lab, not have Whitmere's name pop into his head. He wanted the Internet to freeze up, to have never have seen the article about Howard's acquittal. He wanted to marry the Eve that he'd known yesterday, and live the life he'd imagined having with her.

His shoulders fell, and he wearily pulled out his cell phone, pushing the speed dial button. It was just after Brass answered that Nick heard the gunshot.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

It was hours before anyone would leave him alone. Brass had questions. Grissom had questions. Ecklie had questions. He sat in Grissom's office answering each in turn, his voice robotic, void of the despair welling in his stomach. Grissom wanted to know how she'd cleaned up after herself, made Nick to repeat her confession over and over. Brass wanted to know how she'd gotten hired in the first place, why procedure hadn't been followed, her fingerprints never taken, that question he directed at Ecklie. Ecklie avoided the accusation, and wanted to know how long the relationship had been going on, and didn't Nick know there were rules about co-workers socializing, and that the rules were there for a reason?

Each answer he gave them brought a new question, until finally, they seemed satisfied they knew all there was to know. Ecklie left the room mumbling about publicity backlash, and Brass followed him, wanting an answer to his questions as to how Eve was hired in the first place. Grissom let Nick sit in silence for a few moments before he cleared his throat.

"I shouldn't have left her alone," Nick mumbled.

"No. You shouldn't have," was all Grissom could think to say.

Catherine appeared in the doorway, holding a steaming mug in her hands, a tea bag string hanging over the edge. Quietly, she approached Nick's chair, and he jumped when he realized she was next to him. "Here Nicky, drink this," Catherine handed him the cup, and Nick began to cry.

Catherine put her hand on the top of his head, pulled him closer, holding him to her stomach as she bent down and whispered fruitlessly soothing words in his ear.

After a few moments, Grissom stood up, and took Catherine by the shoulders, leading her out of the room, leaving Nick as alone as he felt.

--

He wandered the lab halls, with no real destination. He avoided his co-workers eyes, not wanting to see the accusation or pity that might be reflected back at him. Whispers greeted his approach, stopping suddenly as the bowed together heads realized his presence and stopped to stare as he walked by.

When he finally did look up, he realized he'd walked himself to the morgue, the double doors stood in front of him. Through the glass square in the door, he saw Doc Robbins pulling a sheet up, covering a body on the table in front of him. Leaving only a mass of curly blonde hair exposed.

Nick felt his hand on the door and his arm pushed, both appendages moving as if he was a puppet on a string. Even his legs rebelled and took him into the room, five feet from Eve's body.

Robbins turned at the sound of the door swishing open. Tilting his head just a little, he took stock of Nick, and knew instantly that the rumors he'd heard were true. "No, Nick," he said quietly. "I won't let you see her, don't remember her like this."

Nick smirked wanly. "I already saw her Doc." The picture of Eve sprawled on her bed, the bed he'd made love to her in, soaked in the blood from the wound in her chest as her heart pumped out. He'd felt helpless as he held her. His already strained throat clenching impossibly tighter with cries for her not to leave him, to hold on. With one hand on the wound in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding, he used the other hand and brushed the hair off her forehead as her eyes drifted unfocused, until her gaze found him. Their eyes locked, each filled with their own variety of sorrow and regret. Eve's voiceless mouth moved, and Nick tore his gaze away from hers to watch the words her lips formed.

_Love you._

Her mouth fell slack, and when Nick looked back up to her eyes, she was gone.

That image would be with him until the day he died. And he had a feeling he'd carry it to heaven with him.

Resignedly, Robbins slipped his arms into his metal crutches and headed for the doors Nick had just entered through. When he came face to face with the younger man, he stopped "You're sure?" Nick nodded, and Doc put a hand on his shoulder for a moment before he continued on, leaving them alone.

Nick stared at the outline of the body under the sheet, his eyes traveling the hills and valleys that formed as the sheet sloped over the body he knew so well. Slowly, he stepped up to the gurney, the same rebel hand reached up, pinching the top of the sheet and gently pulled it down, away from her face.

It struck him how much she looked like she was only sleeping, that she would open her eyes, smile at him and tell him she loved him. He touched her hair, brushing lose strands from her face, his hand drifting down, the back of his fingers brushing her cheek, the pad of his thumb running gently over her lips.

"Hey," Warrick said quietly.

Nick jumped; he hadn't heard his friend come in.

Warrick stepped up to the table and gently tugged the sheet out of Nicks hand, laying it softly back over Eves face. "Come on man, I'll take you home."

--

Warrick's heart broke for his friend. The sum of happiness Nick had exuded over the past few months with Eve was doubled in sorrow now. Silence wrapped itself around the two men as Warrick drove through the noon traffic. Every few minutes Warrick glanced over to Nick with concern narrowing his eyes as Nick sat unmoving, staring out the window.

Warrick steered the truck into Nick's driveway and shut off the engine, and agin he turned his attention to his friend in the passenger seat. His arrival home didn't seem to register with Nick; he hadn't moved since pulling out of the labs parking lot.

"Hey," Warrick said softly, and watched Nick's eyes, reflected in the glass of the window, as he blinked and realized he was home.

Nick swallowed hard and took a deep, shuddering breath. He turned to Warrick and reached for the door handle at the same time. "Thanks 'Rick," Nick said quietly and opened the door, sliding his feet to the ground.

"Want me to-" Warrick began before Nick cut him off.

"No," he said sharply. Nick heard his own tone and glanced away for a moment before continuing in a softer voice. "No. Thanks man, I'll be…" he was about to say fine but he knew he wasn't going to be fine for a long, long time. Letting the sentence hang unfinished, Nick could only shrug and shut the trucks door.

Warrick watched Nick shuffle to the front door then pause for a moment, his head turned slightly to his right, and it seemed to Warrick as if Nick were remembering something. Nick's shoulders slumped suddenly and his head quickly dipped toward his chest. His hand rose, covering his eyes as his back muscles began to tremble.

Warrick's right hand grabbed the keys and the other was on the door handle ready to push it open when Nick seemed to recover as quickly as he'd broken down. Warrick paused in his rescue as he watched Nick dig in his pocket and pull out his key ring, letting himself in and shutting the door softly behind him.

Warrick's head fell forward a bit, and his grip on the keys and door handle fell away, his hands coming up to scrub his face. Worry flooded him, and he wondered if leaving Nick alone was really a good idea.

--

It'd been a long time since the house was so quiet. He'd gotten so used to not being alone. The racket of the television or stereo, Eves voice, the aroma of dinner. There had always been something to greet him in the last few months. Now all that greeted him was emptiness and the faint aroma of Eve's perfume.

He stood in the entryway listening to the sounds of the house. The clock on the wall ticked more loudly than he could remember. The click of the refrigerator startled him and he jumped, his heart beating hard.

Nick rubbed his eyes, the weight of the day resting solidly on his shoulders. He knew the best thing he could do for himself was to get some sleep, but doubted any sleep would come. The idea of lying in his bed, wrapping himself in the sheets that still carried the scent of her only repulsed him.

He forced himself to move, his feet shuffling over the carpet as he moved to the sofa. Lowering himself onto the cushions, he lay down on his left side, facing the hushed room, his head resting on the pillow tucked next to the armrest. With a deep breath, and a short prayer for sleep, he closed his eyes.

Images flashed in his minds eye, his heart and head both pounding with the roller coaster of emotions each memory drove him though. Nick twisted his body so he was lying on his back, and felt something softly plop onto his stomach. Without opening his eyes, his hands reached for the intruding object, his fingers encountering unexpected soft fuzz. His grip tightened, digging into the foamy flesh and he slowly opened his eyes and brought his hands up, bringing the white unicorn into his line of sight.

Fresh tears flowed as the confusing mixture of the happy memory of that night on the strip and the agony of the reality of who and what Eve were swirled together, filling him.

Nick rolled to face the back of the couch, clutching the unicorn to him. He felt like he was drowning, sinking into a sea of grief, the stuffed toy a touchstone, his last remaining part of her that he could hold. No matter what she'd truly been, he loved her with a fierce passion that would have conquered anything they would have had to endure in the name of justice.

His voice was wet, throaty and barely a whisper. "I love you too Evie."

--

a/n: My thanks to everyone for reading, and to those who left reviews. And my everlasting gratitude to AlwaysWrite for her beta skills, and for talking me off the ledge every now and then. Thanks again everybody. Sunset


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